


Bruised

by Ephy



Series: Bruised [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alright maybe it does get sutble at some point, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Issues (too many to give specifics), M/M, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, not subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephy/pseuds/Ephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason grabbed him by the collar, ready to hit. He just wanted to punch him in the face, to erase the flat line of his fucking mouth, but punching it wouldn’t change anything, because Dick fucking Grayson didn’t deem him worthy of his fucking time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote porn.

There were days when Jason wanted to just pick up a gun and open fire on anyone in range. And then, there were days when he only wanted to shot one specific person, such as his fucking older _brother_.

Yeah, right. As if they _were_ a family. Perfect Dick Grayson didn’t need a failure as a brother. He had barely tolerated Jason when he was just a street kid, so a criminal mastermind? _You’re not my brother_ , would be the punchline.

Jason dodged a dingwing – _honestly_ – and fired his gun, once. Those things weren’t good in close combat, but he had it in his hand when Nightwing had attacked him, and the sound was still startling. He grabbed Dick by the wrist as he tried to punch him and used the gun’s cross to hit his face, leaving a red mark.

Dick pursed his lips, all cold disapproval. He looked so much like Bruce for a second that Jason’s anger turned into rage. How _dare_ he? Fuck, he had no fucking _right!_

Jason grabbed him by the collar, ready to hit. He just wanted to punch him in the face, to erase the flat line of his fucking mouth, but punching it wouldn’t change anything, because Dick fucking Grayson didn’t deem him worthy of his fucking time.

Jason leaned over him and _bit_ , drawing a strangled gasp out of Dick. Jason smirked. Now, he was getting somewhere. He took the lip between his teeth and bit harder, to the blood. Dick tried to back off which only made Jason grip his shoulder and smash him against the wall, leaning on him with his entire body, taking advantage of his weight.

Nightwing’s mouth was now twisting in a snarl, making Jason laugh. Dick gripped his hair and pulled, harshly, exposing Jason’s throat. He started laughing louder – then Dick bit back, aiming at the soft skin right beneath his jaw, and fuck, it hurt, and Jason’s whole body shuddered.

That allowed Dick to trip him, and where Jason thought he’d just walk away, Dick dropped with him, punching him in the face. Jason laughed again, then grabbed Dick’s hips to have him sit right _there_ , while Dick gripped his collar and forced a kiss on him, all teeth, no warmth lost. Jason arched into it, both because he wanted to and because he well intended to roll over.

He didn’t quite manage to. Dick used gravity at his advantage to pin him to the roof – it wasn’t like he was easy to unbalance in the first place. Except with words.

“Let’s go to my place,” Jason suggested between two kisses.

Dick froze. Jason sucked a kiss at the corner of his mouth, wishing he could see his eyes right now.

“Or do you prefer to go to the manor? It’s as you prefer, really, but…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Jason smirked – and punched Dick in the face, rolling over, biting his mouth until it bruised, kissing him until Dick started panting. He wished the suit away, so he could actually put his hands around his throat and _crush_ it.

Dick _did_ look better with his lips swollen. Jason needed to rip the damn mask off his face. He stood, registering his own panting breath, and smirked again.

He kicked, forcing Dick to roll away, then again, until he had to actually get up to fight back. Jason laughed nastily, jumping to the next rooftop. He had him hooked and, boy, didn’t that feel satisfying?

By the time they reached his nearest safehouse, they were barely pretending to chase after each other. Jason landed on the emergency stairs right outside his flat’s window only seconds before Dick, who promptly pinned him to the dirty glass. Jason fought back a moan when he started to work on his throat, kicking him away instead so he could disable the alarms.

They stumbled inside, closing the curtains without bothering to turn on the light. The big neon of the sex shop from the ground floor illuminated the room with an eerie pinky light. Jason pressed the buttons, forcing Dick’s suit open, scratching at the tights underneath for him to remove it more quickly.

“Get it _off_ , damnit.”

“Nhg, shut up.”

He needed to see him, to _bruise_ him, to make him as dirty as he felt. Perfect Dick Grayson, always so righteous, loved by everyone – well they should see him _now_. Panting, something sharp and mean in the eyes, his lips split where Jason had bitten harder. He bent to take this specific spot of Dick’s lips between his, sucking on it just to feel him shudder.

“Fuck, yeah…”

Jason didn’t have to trip him to make him fall on the bed; just to push and Dick willingly bent backward, arching, losing his balance willingly when Jason pushed harder.

Jason finished to peel him out of his suit, biting and sucking his skin as he uncovered it, marking it. Dick had also started getting Jason out of his own clothes, and unbuttoned his pants while Jason kicked his shoes away. He looked as ravenous as Jason felt in the dim light, gripping his waist and thigh, hard, like he wanted to punch him again.

“Yeah…”

It was more a growl than actual words; Dick’s voice was hoarse. One of Jason’s hands slipped to his throat, tightening around it as he fought back, arching yet trembling with need.

“ _Fuck_.”

Jason smirked. The perfect facade was breaking apart at last.

He sat up straight, and used his strength – and the element of surprise – to flip Dick on the belly. Dick gasped, then tried to lift his upper body from the mattress, but Jason pushed him back down, biting at his neck, his fingers searching the other man’s hole.

Dick groaned when he found it, still trying to free himself from his grip. Thankfully, they hadn’t discarded the suits, merely pushed them away; one of his pouches was lying right next to them in the bed. Jason had to stop playing for a few minutes and use his fingers to fumble after the lubricant instead, but it was definitively worth it.

Dick managed to turn his upper body, his elbow hitting Jason in the stomach.

“ _Fuck_ you, goddamnit!”

Jason slammed him back into the mattress, twisting Dick’s harm to make sure he wouldn’t move. Then only he went back to the man’s entrance, pushing a greased finger in. Dick’s teeth snapped in the air.

“You fucking little shit,” he swore.

“Be a good boy and get on your knees,” Jason spat, licking the back of Dick’s ear.

“ _Fuck_ you!”

Jason bit his earlobe, wrapping his arm around Dick’s waist to give him room to fold his legs. He felt a wave of arousal when Dick _did_ , pushing his ass up as he kneeled, his face still crushed against the pillow. Fuck, that was… that was.

“God,” Jason panted. Then he kissed his neck appraisingly. “ _Good_.”

“Just, don’t stop, you… Damnit.”

Jason certainly didn’t intend to. He had to force himself to count how long he was taking to prepare Dick, to make sure it would be _enough_. Not that he seemed to mind some pain – but there was pain and then there was torn muscle. If he’d wanted to incapacitate Dick Grayson, he would have shot him in the knee instead of taking him home.

Heh. Instead of taking him, period.

“Will you stop daydreaming and fuck me?” Dick growled.

He really didn’t make things easier, did he?

“If you think you can take it, big brother,” Jason commented, crooking his fingers inside him.

Dick groaned, his hips jerking once without control. Fuck. The bastard was tempting, even without counting the need to make him curse. Or moan. Or both.

Jason removed his fingers, slowly. Dick made that sound with his throat, which was too soft to be a whimper yet too loud to be a breath. It took all his control not to just grab him and push his cock into his hole. Instead, he waited for Dick to swear again.

“Do you want to fuck, or just to stare?”

“I just wanted to hear you beg”, Jason admitted easily, pushing in without waiting for Dick’s retort.

This time, they both moaned, because, fuck. That felt good. Jason kept pushing, slowly, entering him until he was all in and felt Dick’s legs tremble. He put his arm back around his waist to support him, then started moving.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah,” Jason groaned, or moaned, he didn’t care at this point.

Dick was moving to meet him, jerking his hips in rhythm, the muscle of his back tensing at each thrust, as if he couldn’t get enough of it.

“ _Harder_ ,” Dick demanded, his voice raw.

Jason complied, his hand slipping from Dick’s waist to grab his hip, to move him just. Like. This.

“Fuck, harder, _yes_ …”

One of Dick’s hands slipped to his cock, stroking it, while he braced himself on his opposite arm to arch into Jason’s movements. The bed creaked as they rutted together, too hard to call it by any other word, gasps morphing into moans as they lost themselves in the sensations.

Dick gasped harder, his body tensing. Jason gave a few… more… thrusts… just… like…

Things went blank for a while.

Then.

 _Wow_ , was all his brain could provide.

And after a few moments, _this was good. Hell, this was great_.

Jason blinked at Dick’s neck. The older man’s body was pliant underneath his. Jason himself felt… blurry and warm and… Well. Afterglow-ish. It almost felt good enough to just lay there and…

His eyes flickered to the red marks on Dick’s back. He was going to have bruises. His hip was yellowing already, five visible spots which would take the exact form of Jason’s hand. Jason had – he had dirtied him. Success!

Fuck. _Fuck._ Why did he feel _sick_ about it?

Jason detached himself from Dick’s body, rolling away with disgust. Not of Dick; of himself. What the hell had he done? What the fuck was wrong with him that always made him want to _destroy_ everything, everyone?

Dick moved to unfold himself, rolling on his side to face him.

“Freaking out already? I would have thought we’d have at least five minutes before that.”

An uncontrollable laugh bubbled from Jason’s lips. It sounded freaky.

“What, like _you_ aren’t thinking how much of a bad idea this has been.”

“I’ll have time for that tomorrow,” Dick declared, grabbing Jason’s neck to pull him into a kiss.

An actual kiss, like, mouth, tongue, almost no teeth. Then Dick did add teeth, and it felt even better. Jason found himself answering it, not quite ready to devour him once more yet wanting to. Dick was ridiculously gorgeous, and his flexibility, the way his body pressed against Jason’s like a cat’s, like he could melt into him… Damn him. It was hot.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow so you want _more_ of it?”

“I don’t get to make mistakes all that often.”

Jason glared, actually offended at that. Dick returned him a sharp smile – this wasn’t about love and butterflies, this almost-smirk reminded him. He bit its lower lip, because, fuck, that _smile_.

Dick rolled on him, spreading his legs to sit on Jason’s thighs, and… yeah, alright, he was only human, okay?

The second time wasn’t softer but it _was_ slower. They made up for it by being more vicious, leaving scratches where they would hurt the next day, licking each other faces and biting at each other’s scars.

They came just as hard.

Jason allowed himself all of five minutes to enjoy the feeling this time, lying next to Dick in the bed, not touching him but close enough to feel the warmth of his body.

With his anger melting away, however, the feeling of disgust came back twice as strong. Jason swallowed, then calmly got to his feet.

“I’m taking a shower. You’d better go back to patrol.”

Dick didn’t answer him. Jason headed for the shower.

When he came back, the bed was empty.

He felt the need to punch something. But his anger was gone. Now… He just felt hollow. And bruised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was porn ^^;


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it happened again.

When one crossed a line once, it became easier to do it again. This was true about killing people – and about fucking them.

Jason pursed his lips, glaring at the alluring form of Nightwing flying across Gotham’s sky. Not that he _wanted_ Dick Grayson. He only wanted to punch him the face. To bruise him. To shake him until he stopped looking so damn _grim_.

He had no idea what had happened, nor why the Fabulous Wonder Boy was around Gotham. He didn’t care to keep tabs on the family, not on their private business anyway. But it was obvious that something was going on, something bad enough for Dick to be around and to move in sharp angles instead of his usual gracious curves.

The man had this bad habit of keeping things bottled up until he snapped, lashing out on anyone in sight. Jason could relate – though _his_ problem was more that he just wasn’t able to bottle up anything. He lashed out right away.

It was possibly some kind of a family trait.

Except they _weren’t part of the same family_.

Anger bubbled in his chest, quickly followed by annoyance. The night was a quiet one, too quiet for him to punch his rage out on some thug. Too quiet for Dick to do the very same.

Jason pushed away thoughts about families and lines crossed, and launched his line to pursue Nightwing, enjoying the wind on his bare face. He had left his helmet at his safehouse that night. A simple domino sure wasn’t as restrictive.

Jason got closer to Nightwing and aimed a batarang before being noticed, throwing it nice and well, cutting Dick’s line. Of course, there wasn’t such thing as making Dick Grayson fall; the man’s body gracefully bent to change its direction toward a gargoyle, going once around it before landing on its head.

Jason kicked him away from it with all the momentum of his own movement. Of course, Dick didn’t have but one line, and quickly fired his second one to get away from him. Jason followed, grinning as they started racing between the buildings. Dick was the best flyer, always had been – but Jason knew Gotham better. He had been born here, he had learnt to climb to her roofs to survive, had run in her streets since he’d managed to stand on his feet.

Few people were able to keep up with him in his city, fewer could shake him off.

Dick was part of those who _might_. If he tried hard enough. And if he _wanted_ to.

Apparently, he did not. He _did_ fly away, but stayed in sight, his body arching high over the streets instead than hiding in corners. His costume was dark enough for him to blend in the shadows whenever he wanted to. No; this was a _show_.

He seemed to feel better already.

Jason thought about using his guns, but decided against it. Not now, not yet. He knew he’d make the right choice when finally Nightwing landed in the middle of a large rooftop, daring him to come closer.

Who was Jason to resist such a tempting sight?

He landed right on him, fists first. He missed Dick’s jaw, but got him in the gut quite satisfyingly. Bent in two, Dick charged him, pushing him backward. Jason felt his back smash against a wall, the shock emptying his lungs. He still managed to punch Dick in the sides a few times, before the man tripped him and they both went down.

Well. That was sooner than expected.

Jason managed to use his weight to roll over the slender man, putting an arm on his throat to crush it. Then a sparkling pain hit him in the side and Jason cried out, letting Dick go to roll away.

“Weapons are cheating!” he panted, fighting against the electricity-induced tremor in his hands.

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Dick commented.

He had a point.

So Jason drew a gun from its holster and started firing, not really bothering to aim. Dick ducked behind the stairs block. Jason kept firing, walking forward. Then, right before turning around the corner of the small hut, he threw his gun like a batarang. He heard a startled gasp above him; that confirmed Dick hadn’t stayed around the corner to wait for him, as expected. Jason jumped, grabbed the first limb he could grab, and pulled.

Dick cursed as he fell from the hut’s roof. Jason caught him, neatly twisting Dick’s arm behind his back.

“Got you,” he breathed in Nightwing’s ear, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his voice.

“What’s this about, Red Hood?” Dick spat.

Jason laughed.

“If you were wondering, why did you lure me to a building that happens to contain your local nest?”

Dick pulled a face.

“It’s a flat, not a safehouse.”

“Considering it’s registered under the name of Grey Richardson, it qualifies as one. Besides, _really_? Couldn’t you come up with anything less obvious?”

“This is Gotham,” Dick pointed out, moving slightly to try to free himself. Jason twisted his arm harder. “Even if people realize who I am, they assume this is my bachelor pad.”

“Am I supposed to be your hooker?” Jason took Dick’s ear between his teeth, playing with it lightly before letting it go. This close, he could feel Dick’s shudder. “Or your pimp?”

“Why so sordid?”

“Because I sure as hell ain’t your lover, bird boy.”

How in Hell Dick managed to free a hand and elbow him in the gut, Jason would never know. He found himself pushed against the wall, an escrima stick against his throat. Dick smirked.

“I guess we’ll have to find out, then?”

Jason waved at the stairs block door.

“After you.”

Instead of freeing him, Dick looked straight at him and bit Jason’s lower lip, drawing blood. _Then_ he backed off, still smirking. And kept backing off and off until the edge of the roof, from which he jumped.

Of course he did.

Jason walked to the edge, glancing down to check at which window Dick had stopped, and followed. Dick had disabled the alarms by the time he joined him, and they stumbled together into the flat.

Their hands were hard on each other, pressing and pushing, teeth closing on skin as soon as clothes were moved out of the way. This wasn’t care, or love, or want. Only anger, and the need to get it _out_ , one way or another.

Jason tried to push Dick on the table, but he managed to evade him until they reached the bed. There, however, Dick let himself be pressed face against the mattress, arching while Jason’s finger went straight for his hole, while Jason’s teeth sink into his shoulder.

He saw Dick go for his own cock, jerking hard while Jason spread him open. He was being rougher this time, and Dick whined with pain.

“Fuck you Jason!”

“Not... hah, exactly.”

Dick launched his elbow at Jason’s throat, forcing him to back off – then used his movement to push him on his back. Victorious, Dick smirked, and settled on Jason’s hips, his goddamned escrima stick pushing at Jason’s throat as it had earlier. When the Hell had he found the time to grab it?

“Do you really want to bring up weapons into this, bird boy?” Jason warned.

“Be nice and I just might,” Dick whispered in his ear.

Jason groaned. Then blinked as Dick lifted his hips slightly.

“Keep doing what you started,” the elder vigilante ordered. “More _carefully_.”

Jason shuddered as the escrima stick pressed against his throat. He let his hands slowly reach Dick’s ass, then put his fingers back to work. Just one, to start, and that earned him a soft moan. The escrima stick didn’t move, though, a little reminder not to get too _enthusiastic_.

“Gimme the damn lube,” Jason demanded.

“Be nice.”

“I can’t be nice without it, and I sure can’t reach it from here.”

“Then I guess we’re stuck, aren’t we?”

Jason glared at him. Dick smirked, eyes cold, nothing nice in his usually softer features. Then Jason crooked his finger right _there_ , and self-importance briefly deserted Dick’s face, replaced by need. Yeah, that was more like it.

“Lube?” Jason asked again.

“Fuck you.”

Pleasure seemed to impair Dick’s creativity, as far as swearwords were concerned. But he did reach for the lube, careful not to let his guard down. Jason waited for him to grab the tube – then _pushed_.

Dick fell backward, Jason straightening up, reversing their positions. Now it was his turn to smirk.

“Lube?” he asked once more.

Dick glared, but gave him the tube. He hadn’t let go the escrima stick, and something about his face told Jason he wouldn’t hesitate to activate its taser if needed, so he was careful to keep his fingers movements soft even while having the upper hand.

He _did_ bite his shoulder once more, though. Considering the sound it startled out of Dick, he didn’t mind.

“Fuck, Jason…”

“Yeah, getting there.”

Dick’s face wasn’t soft, far from it, but pleasure was starting to take over grimness. His muscles were tense still, but from want as well as from anger. And his anger now had a target to focus on, a target willing to let him grab his thigh hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck,” Jason panted as Dick did just so. “Didn’t you want me to be careful?”

“Enough care, more action,” Dick said, having apparently decided he was ready. Then he raised a leg high enough to have it rest on Jason’s shoulder.

Fucking acrobat. Jason had to admit he was impressed. And hard. Fuck, who could resist someone spreading like _that?_

“ _Now_ ,” Dick demanded.

So Jason grabbed his ass’ cheeks, and just pushed in.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he couldn’t help but to moan. “Fuck, that’s…”

“Breathe,” Dick suggested snappily. Jason inspired as told, then realized what he was doing and glared. Dick didn’t seem to have noticed, though, too far gone to care. “Just fucking _move_.”

Jason definitively wanted to follow _that_ order. He let his hips jerk twice, then slowed down, to match the pace Dick had set last time when he was riding. Facing Jason like this, Dick couldn’t reach his own cock, which was stuck between them, possibly not getting enough friction. He could only feel Jason’s movements and arch into them.

“ _Fuck_.”

Jason slowed down even more. Dick dug his nails into Jason’s back, leaving red marks on his skin, then grabbed his hips and tensed his muscles and _made_ Jason quicken his pace.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jason echoed him. Then “Fuck,” again, because his brain just couldn’t find any other word right now.

Dick’s, apparently, could.

“ _Harder_.”

And Jason went harder, then again when Dick asked for more, then more, then...

They stayed like this, panting into each other, for some time. If sex was going to be that good each time, Jason at least was in for more. ‘Fuck’, indeed.

He felt Dick’s muscles relax, and carefully eased his leg to the mattress. He should just get going, now that he was done. He would. In a minute.

Dick’s hand lazily caressed the hip it had been grabbing, then pressed right where a finger had been digging. Jason shuddered. There was going to be a new bruise right there in a few hours.

A minute had passed. He still didn’t feel like moving.

He glanced at the bedside. Red digit stared back at him, announcing 03.10 AM. Jason glared at the clock, then, since it didn’t seem to mind, grabbed the escrima stick still lying on the bed and threw it at the nightstand hard enough to knock the damn thing over.

“What the fuck?” Dick grumbled, clearly too tired to get mad over something so trivial.

“Hush. Sleep,” Jason prompted.

Much to his surprise, Dick closed his eyes. Wow. Did he really intend to just sleep with Jason there? No way. This _wasn’t_ care, nor warmth.

Jason got on his feet, grabbing his things. He toyed with the idea of taking a shower before leaving but decided against it. Dick certainly wouldn’t fall asleep as long as he was around and there was a possibility that he would want to _talk_.

So Jason put his clothes back on, noting to go back on the roof to recover his gun before leaving, and headed for the window.

Pity, though. This _had_ felt relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fighting scenes and sex scenes are the hardest to write, so, this is training. Kind of.  
> Hope you like the... well. Story?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Err... Alright, this wasn't planned.

There were days when Jason wanted to just pick up a gun and open fire on anyone in range. And then, there were days when even that wouldn’t be enough, when _rage_ wasn’t strong enough to get over the uselessness of it all.

Had he not known what afterlife looked like – utter emptiness, eternal cold, eternal _nothing_ – he might have considered putting his guns to another kind of use. But no. That was something he certainly would never contemplate. Ever.

Jason had been working on the slave ring for weeks. Going in and shooting anyone in range was all good but that didn’t stop the heads of the organization, nor did it free the people who had already been sold. So he had painfully accumulated evidence, footages and conversation recordings, in order to make sure he had pinned the motherfucker who was behind all this. Then, he had readied his guns and had gone to the headquarters and…

And he was there now. In the empty room that should have been the boss office. There wasn’t as much as a stain to mark where the furniture had been. Everything had been washed away. It was pristine enough to be sold right away to any gothamite entrepreneur who would align the money.

Fuck.

There had been at least 14 people in the basement last time Jason had watched the place.

 _Fuck_.

Jason took a deep breath and started checking the different rooms for anything, anything _at all_ left from the organization. He covered every inch of every surface, walls, grounds, for a clue.

Not any villain was able to operate in Gotham without being found by the Bat, though. The cleaning job had been thorough. There was nothing left.

Jason exited the place and climbed on the rooftop. The city looked as gloomy and polluted as ever, the industrial fumes raising in the sky from the old Syonis metallurgy, near the docks. On the other side, the bright lights from the Diamond district glittered between the buildings. There was a phone ringing in the distance, and young gangsters yelling at each other, and farther away, a police siren echoing in a distant street.

Jason removed his helmet, then his mask, just to feel the rain on his face. The rain meant he was still alive. Dead people didn’t get to feel wet.

Dead people also didn’t get the flu, so he forced himself to fire his line and go back to patrol, as if nothing had been supposed to happen tonight. He was half an hour late on his most usual route, and didn’t really intend to do much, but he knew it by heart. Doing familiar things helped. Helped keeping himself together, if not feeling better.

Fuck. How could he have screwed up so completely?

No. He had to focus on the patrol. Gotham’s sounds around him. After he was done, he’d go back to the safe house and shower, then sleep. And in the morning, he’d wake up in an actual bed, brush his teeth, go through the GCPD’s files to find another case to focus on.

A metallic, rolling sound rang in the alley he was flying over. Probably just a rat walking on a bin, but Jason still glanced below – and it was hard to mistake the two bodies pressed against the brick for lovers making out. She was fighting desperately, trying to bite the hand that covered half her face. He had cut off her blouse and bra, panting as he licked her now naked breasts.

Usually, Jason would have put a bullet in the man’s knee and called the police to let the handle the rest, maybe staying around just so the girl wouldn’t be waiting for them alone with her rapist.

His fist met the man’s jaw before Jason had even realized he had dropped down. Finally free, the girl gasped for breath, sobbing; it didn’t sound like a casual victim, more like someone used to the abuse. That only made Jason hit harder, ignoring the man’s supplications or the sound of his bones breaking. The girl screamed at last, a pitiful, hopeless sound barely strong enough to reach the nearest street, if there was anyone to hear it.

Jason let the man drop to the ground. His face was never going to look the same. There was blood on his shirt, probably from a broken nose, and teeth, and hopefully worse. Jason deliberately took his gun from his holster, pointing it at the man’s head. He had been hit too hard to beg, only producing the whistling sound of someone whose rib had damaged a lung.

The noises stopped. The world narrowed, reducing to this tunnel between the barrel and the man’s forehead, everything perfectly aligned.

Then someone called Jason’s name.

That made him hesitate, if just for a second. Long enough to break the moment, in any case. The bubble popping, everything came crashing back: the rain, the woman’s sobs, a cat meowing on the emergency stairs three floors up, cars rolling in the street nearby, Nightwing staring at him from the other side of the perp, hands raised.

“Please don’t,” the idiot was asking.

Jason wondered how long he’d been there. He had been too lost in his anger to pay attention. He didn’t relax his stance, but still lowered his gun. Not that he minded shooting Dick Grayson but he’d rather do it on purpose.

They stayed like this for some time, just standing, not saying a word. The girl had slipped to the ground, her sobs barely audible. The man breathed painfully. Nightwing’s gaze was entirely focused on Jason.

“What do you want?” Jason spat, and it took him a few seconds to recognize his own voice.

Only then did Nightwing take a step toward him and, when Jason didn’t react, several more. He didn’t quite take the gun from him, just looked at him until Jason holstered it himself. Then he put a hand on his face, slowly cupping his cheek. Jason winced. Why…?

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Nightwing explained. “We will wait for it on the roof, to make sure the young lady is alright. Then we are going to your place.”

It wasn’t a demand, nor a question. When Nightwing removed his hand to make the call, Jason didn’t move. As soon as he was done, Nightwing fired a line and, after an assessing glance, put an arm around Jason’s waist and brought them both to the rooftop.

The ambulance was there in minutes.

Jason didn’t protest when Nightwing dragged him away, nor when he guided them both to the flat they’d fucked in the first time. He disabled the security system himself (Jason’s brain made a quick note to improve it later) and pulled him to the bedroom while removing his clothes.

They fucked without a word, Dick’s hands hard on Jason’s thighs, his teeth viciously scratching skin as Jason took him in quick, short jerks.

Climax pierced through the cotton wrapping Jason’s feelings, but once it was gone, he only felt hollower. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t even manage to be angry at Dick for stopping him earlier.

At this point, his brain turned back on, which wasn’t good news. His muscles tensed as anxiety and disgust built – then Dick’s hands, which had been resting on his back, started moving.

The hands didn’t do much; just repetitive, shooting motions from his lower back to his neck, more petting than caressing. Yet it anchored him there, in this bed, with a warm body besides him, rather than in that fucking empty office. One of the hands reached his hair, massaging through the curls.

Damn. Where the hell had he left his helmet? Those things didn’t look like much but they were a pain in the ass to create, tailor-made to fit both his head and his needs.

“Isn’t there any way to shut off your brain?” Dick muttered in his ear. “I swear you’re worse than Tim.”

“Did you just compare me to the replacement?” Jason frowned.

Dick cast him a wicked smirk, barely forced.

“’Depends. Will you make me pay for it?”

Jason stared at him. Then stared some more, as he realized exactly what had happened. Dick Golden Grayson had stopped him from killing someone – and instead of arresting him, promptly dragged him to bed.

And now he was trying to cheer him up.

Though they’d never been close, Jason actually recognized the behavior. It was exactly what _he_ had been doing last time they’d fucked. Dick had been in a dark place, and Jason had punched him out of it. This is was Dick’s notion of doing the same. That they both enjoyed rough sex was a plus.

Dick was still smiling. Jason leaned on him – and bit. The moan he got as reward was excessively satisfying.

He decided to bite his way down, careful not to ignore any scar in the way, leaving traces above the collar that would definitively be visible the next day. Reaching the nipples, he used his tongue first, teasing and playing until they were both hard enough to be bitten as well. Dick shuddered with something close to relief.

His abs were well defined, definitively requiring some decoration, after a quick detour by his navel. Of course, Jason ignored Dick’s hard dick – honestly, he could only go so long without thinking about the mandatory joke – and settled for sucking the junction between his torso and his thigh instead. The skin there was soft and sensible, his mouth work making Dick produce interesting sounds.

A hand landed on top of Jason’s head, not pushing nor even clenching in his hair, more a need for contact than a demand. Jason forbade himself to shudder. When that failed, he settled for licking his way to Dick’s cock instead, certain that would be distracting enough for the older man not to notice the reaction.

Then again, Jason couldn’t just _suck_ _him off_. That would be way too easy; and he wasn’t easy. Not with people who knew him, anyway.

So he merely used his tongue, licking without giving any pressure, teasing. The hand on his head tensed briefly as Dick trembled.

“Fuck, Jason…”

“At your service,” Jason declared, leaving there his cock to go back to his level.

This time, he fucked him deep, making Dick feel every thrust, almost intimate if it wasn’t for the harsh edge of his movements – and Christ didn’t Dick seem to love it, arching into it, gasping each time as he didn’t expect this push to be just as good as the previous one. His fingers dug in Jason’s skin, a hand on his shoulder the other at his neck, grabbing him, pulling him closer, until Jason too couldn’t help but to whimper in rhythm.

“Fuck, _fuck_ …”

He came, too hard to fight it, too hard to care. When he came back down from it, blinking, he realized that Dick had grabbed his cock to finish himself at some point, so all was good.

Fuck, all actually _felt_ good. Despise the fuck up, despise the fucking rain outside, the actual chill of the flat – he wasn’t using it at the moment, not with Dick knowing where it was, so the heat wasn’t on (and how hadn’t he noticed _that_ earlier?) – or the sticky semen between them.

With a groan, Jason fumbled after the blanket and pulled it over them. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

In a few minutes, their bodies produced enough heat to warm the small cocoon up to a tolerable level, making it even more comfortable.

Fuck, indeed. Jason didn’t know what to say.

“May I use your shower?” Dick asked at some point.

“Sure,” Jason agreed, before his brain caught up. “The water is going to be cold, though.”

Dick wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah, no thanks. Should I turn on the heat in the way out?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Dick kicked a foot out of the bed, sighed, then rose from the blanket shell. They had all been trained to get suited up as quickly as possible, and he certainly didn’t waste time while getting back in Nightwing’s blue and black. Jason carefully avoided moving.

Then something pulled at the blanket until Jason stuck his nose out of it. Dick grinned at him, still bare faced, and kissed him. An actual kiss, no tongue, no teeth.

Then, without a word, he put his mask on and slipped out of the flat.

Jason stared at the window. The heat was on; but the flat would take some time to warm up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, not planned at all. Characterization just happened. Don't kill me?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I decided to take liberties with the timeline XD I hadn't thought about it earlier because, well, the fic didn't request it.  
> Technically, when Jason came back, Bludhaven exploded. I decided he would have been back earlier, just so Dick could still be in Bludhaven.  
> Just so you know, I'm not sure yet about who is Robin between Tim and Damian; we'll see about that later.  
> I hope you'll like the chapter :) Not as intense as the previous one, but then, it can't always be.

Jason knew he had issues. It was kind of obvious; and while not being a freaking genius like Barbara or Bruce, he wasn’t an absolute idiot either, thank you very much. So, yeah, issues. He had them. And he actually made sure a select few stayed well in place.

Some of his deepest ingrained reflexes came from hard learnt lessons. They ensured his continued survival.

Even those couldn’t turn him into a cold-blooded machine, though; which probably was for the best. It was what still differentiated him from the men he put down.

And what make it hard to deal with some cases.

The prostitute had agreed to help him because she wanted a better chance at life for her son. Not that Jason could provide that. Yet, she had insisted on going through with the plan.

‘ _It’s not just about what I can do for him_ ’, she’d said. ‘ _It’s about showing him that there is more to life than survival_.’

So she had gone and seduced the dirty bag who figured himself a new Falcone, keeping her eyes and ears open.

She’d been a strong woman. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of strength that made one bulletproof. They had discovered she was giving information to someone – and had struck, not without cleaning out most of the operations she’d known about, making her sacrifice mostly useless.

Thank god, they hadn’t known about her child.

“You can come out, now”, Jason said softly, his eyes scanning the living room. “The bad men won’t be coming anymore.”

She had given solid instruction to the kid: stay hidden, do not trust anyone. But it had been hours. It had taken time for Jason to hear about what had happening, and some more to find her corpse. He’d killed all the henchmen who’s still been around.

Then he’d headed for her flat.

“Please come out now, Charlie”, Jason insisted without raising his voice. He hesitated, then added, “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

The kid had been told to stay hidden, but he was too young to really understand what was at stake. And even a child would recognized this specific tone.

Something moved under the carpet: a trap opening. Now that he knew what to look for, Jason spotted the wire which allowed one to roll the carpet over the trap while being inside; it was a clever trick from a clever woman.

 _Damnit_.

Little Charlie emerged from his hideout, his face pale. Despite the tears that wetted his cheeks, he hadn’t made a sound. He’d been brave.

Being brave didn’t always make a difference.

“Mom?” The little boy asked in the broken voice of someone who knew what was coming.

“I’m sorry”, Jason confirmed. “She is dead.”

There was no way to soften that kind of announcement. Using euphemisms often made it worse, because people kept hoping they weren’t getting it right until they heard the actual words. Not coming back. Gone. Yes, I do mean _dead_.

The boy sobbed.

“Mommy… _Mommy!_ ”

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

What was Jason supposed to say? ‘ _Everything is going to be alright_ ’? That would be the worst lie ever.

He put a hand on the kid’s head.

“She’s gone,” he declared truthfully. Then, “She won’t be in pain anymore,” he added, because he _remembered_.

The child sniffed, young enough for his eyes to be hardened yet, to be filled by hope at Jason’s words.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Jason confirmed.

The kid sighed then, tears still pouring on his cheeks. Gotham CPS might find a good family for that one. Or he might end up in a low-range family who only cared about CPS money and merely ignored the children. That would still be a blessing, compared to other situations.

Jason grit his teeth. Or he could just drop the kid at Martha Wayne Foundation. Bruce would know he’d been brought in by Jason, and however infuriating the man was, he _would_ make sure to find a good family for the boy.

Jason would owe him; he _hated_ that. But little Charlie other options didn’t look good.

Jason’s helmet was way too big for the kid, but it was better than nothing while riding a bike. At least, wearing _Red Hood’s red hood_ seemed to distract him a bit. Jason didn’t stay at the Foundation for long; it tasted too much like wasted chances. Besides, it was better for the kid not to cling to him of all people.

He went back to his bike, starting the engine to quickly drive away.

Dick had moved back to Bludhaven. And why would his brain even think of him? It had been three months since _that night_ , and Jason had made sure not to cross path with Dick again. Not that he’d felt threatened but – who was he trying to fool? Of course he’d felt threatened. One didn’t just waltz into his personal space while making it _comfortable_.

As a matter of fact, Jason stuck to casual sex _specifically_ to avoid those situations. No one knew his face under the mask, without his gear he was anonymous. Being just that one guy from that one night kept things uncomplicated. His life was messy enough as it was.

Yet here he was, wishing Dick hadn’t left yet.

It seemed his issues hadn’t made him strong enough.

He accelerated, cursing mentally, trying to concentrate on the bike movements. He suddenly wished he’d left his helmet to the kid, so he’d been able to feel the wind on his face. Maybe it would have distracted him from his need to _fucking scream_.

Or he could just turn left, then right, then follow Moses Boulevard right to the highway. The city faded into slums as he circled around Gotham’s bay, trying not to think too hard. In a few minutes only, he found himself driving under a road sign welcoming people in Bludhaven – and wondered what the hell had gotten into him.

He took the exit, following the curve of the road, going a few more streets into town before pulling back.

Fuck. What _was_ he doing there? What did he expect? For Nightwing to just show up because he’d arrived? (Now, that would be worrying. Dick hadn’t managed to put a tracker on him, had he?)

Worse: had he intended to track Nightwing down himself, like a loving puppy? He snorted at the thought. Right. His heart was full of sun and butterflies. Obviously.

Yet here he was.

He fired a line, then looked around to find a high rooftop from which he’d been able to see the city layout. He’d studied maps, but he’d rarely come in person – the city _was_ Nightwing’s.

To think there’d been a time when he had never got out of Gotham city itself. It had taken Bruce adopting him for him to travel occasionally. It had taken Jason dying for him to really start going around, mostly thanks to Talia.

Jason made sure not to be spotted from below, moving carefully. Considering how Dick was currently _working_ at the BCPD, he wouldn’t miss the reports of a guy with a shiny red helmet scaring people off.

Jason settled on a skyscraper to scan the city underneath; even non-Bats like him felt more comfortable on a vantage point. Bludhaven looked like Gotham at her worst. As much as Jason loved his city, that wasn’t a compliment.

He could understand how that would appeal to someone from their world. The place looked like it needed someone to give it hope. It could certainly use a vigilante to clean up the mess. However, would it be enough? It had taken _Bruce_ to get Gotham’s figurative head out of the water, and as much as Jason resented the man, he couldn’t deny his skill, nor qualify his will as anything else than unbendable. Besides, Bruce hadn’t worked alone. Batman had Robin.

Dick was a strong person. He certainly had skill, and will. But Bludhaven looked like the kind of city which could break a man.

The prostitute’s lifeless face appears in Jason’s mind, making him shudder. Sometimes, being brave wasn’t enough.

Coming to Bludhaven. What an _idiot_. He walked to the rooftop’s edge and jumped. Ten minutes later, he was back on the highway, heading for Gotham.

###

He went back. It wasn’t really in hope for crossing path with Dick – in fact, _that_ became increasingly true. Riding to Bludhaven became a way to detach himself from his problems in Gotham. Somehow, physically distancing himself from the city helped, even just by crossing the bay.

Besides, seeing how Gotham had _improved_ compared to Bludhaven made him feel better. Bludhaven was the Gotham from his childhood, before the Bat, before hope had started being an option. Jason could only wish that Bludhaven would follow the same path, with time.

Then, the fifth time he climbed on the tall skyscraper, a black and blue figure dropped on him.

Jason rolled away by reflex; stopping thinking about Nightwing hadn’t meant he’d dropped his guard. No blow followed, surprisingly. Instead, Dick glared at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sightseeing,” Jason replied. What did Dick think he _was_ doing in Bludhaven?

Then a horrible thought occurred to Jason. He didn’t think he’d come here chasing for him, did he?

“It’s the second time in as many weeks,” Nightwing insisted.

So he hadn’t spotted Jason earlier. His hold on the city was weaker than Jason had assumed. But then, considering its state, he shouldn’t be surprised. Had Nightwing’s influence been any stronger, the place would be improving already.

“And you didn’t greet me the first time? I’m offended,” Jason mocked.

“What do you _want_ , Hood?”

His menacing tone suddenly stopped being funny. What was he assuming Jason was up to no good? He wasn’t a damn criminal! And he hadn’t _done_ anything in Bludhaven. Nor was he a lovesick puppy whining for attention!

Then again, Jason had to admit Nightwing had reasons to be wary, regardless of whatever steam they’d blown together those few times. Jason didn’t stick to their sacrosanct rules. He had worked as a criminal in the past. From a Bat’s point of view, he was the enemy.

Despite all he’d sacrificed for their common cause, despite _dying_. It wasn’t enough. It was _never_ enough.

Jason bolted forward, not caring about grabbing a weapon first, just bare fists aimed at Nightwing’s face. Dick parried – being too direct meant being predictable – and tried to kick him away. Jason didn’t bother dodging, merely blocking the leg with his arm, reaching for his _throat_.

Unchanneled anger was useless against a peer. Dick diverted his blow, using Jason’s momentum to lock his arm in a painful key. Jason growled at him, teeth bared. Dick only strengthened his grip.

“Do you _want_ me to dislocate your shoulder?”

Jason kept struggling, until Dick’s grip got tight enough to force him down on a knee. Despite the pain, Jason couldn’t fight back a laugh.

“What are you going to do? Follow daddy’s example and throw me in prison? I’d say it would only give me better access to local criminals but, honestly, here I could just shot random people in the street with the same odds of getting someone who deserves it.”

Dick shook him, forcing Jason to clasp his mouth shut not to shout from the pain.

“Shut up!” Dick yelled. “I don’t care what you do in Gotham but you’re not screwing around in here! Things are bad enough without you…”

“… giving a hand?” Jason interrupted before he could stop himself.

Dick blinked, startled enough to relax his grip – though not enough so for Jason to break it. Then he snorted.

“I don’t need your kind of help.”

“Really?” Jason challenged. “Because this place really look like it could use it. You’ve been here what, nine months? You _and_ the city both seem ready to collapse.”

“Says the one who has just been beaten.”

Jason kicked Dick in the foot, straightening up as Dick lost his balance. In a second, he had him on the floor, his knife under Dick’s throat. Then he stared.

“I just tripped you.”

Dick glared.

“You’re Dick Grayson, and you just _lost your balance_ ,” Jason insisted.

“ _Shut up_.”

Jason was actually starting to worry. He’d supposed Dick’s nervousness back in Gotham had been caused by a situation there, but he’d been back in Bludhaven for weeks now. And he looked worse.

“ _You_ shut up. How many _hours_ are you working a day?” Jason realized out loud. “Aren’t you a cop or something in addition to Nightwing?”

“Don’t start like Bruce,” Dick snapped.

Jason just _looked_ at him.

“B. and I are _agreeing_ on something and you’re still protesting?”

“I don’t need help! I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Didn’t that sound familiar? Well, damn him. He was a big vigilante. Jason wasn’t his mother.

Not that any of them still had one.

Jason pulled back his blade.

“I like it better when you’re bossy,” he commented. “Wanna fuck?”

Dick blinked, a laugh startled out of him.

“Isn’t that subtle and romantic.”

“Don’t tell me you like it better when I punch you,” Jason mocked, half serious.

Dick raised his eyebrows, relaxing in a position nothing short of sinful.

“What if I do?”

Jason bent over him, and bit.

They didn’t make it to a flat this time.


	5. Chapter 5

The whole bullet-to-the-head thing was a mix of mission and madness, both of which Jason was aware of. What he did wasn’t justice; it was what came when justice didn’t work. It helped people. It helped  _ victims _ . If nothing else, it put an end to their fear, for the boogeyman would be no more.

People might call what he did horrible, but they didn’t know how it was. How it was to be so terrified that sleep wouldn’t come at night, that paranoia filled the day. How it was to be helpless and to know, intimately, that someone was coming. That the monster would always be coming, as long as it lived.

However, Jason didn’t always kill because of this philosophy. Sometimes, he just snapped – much less often now that when he’d first come back, but still.

Thankfully, his brain seemed aware enough for him to only prey on scum, even in that state, so Jason didn’t label himself a monster just yet. The day that’d happen…

In any case, sometimes, when he killed, he didn’t do it because he’d intellectually decided to do so. It happened when he was in those moods, the moods that made him bang pimp’s heads against the pavement without noticing Nightwing.

A mood like today.

The night was rainy. Water made the roof’s tiles slippery and the pavement shiny. The sound of it ran everywhere, as it flew in the gutters and into the sewers. It was late enough to be early and the streets were empty, except for the odd street rat looking for a refuge, its tiny paws or little feet splashing in the puddles, depending on if it was a literal or metaphorical rat.

Jason’s head was pounding with exhaustion, echoed in his side by a regular ache where two of his ribs had been bruised. The moisture made its way into his helmet through a crack at the temple. Despise his gear, he felt chilled to the bones, his fingers and limbs ice cold beneath the kevlar.

The Joker had escaped from Arkham. Again.

Jason had heard of it 17 hours ago through the GCPD radio, and had spent those hours looking for him. Inevitably, that had led him to run into Batman, to whom he owed both the crack on his helmet and the ache in his ribs. Because, of course, when  _ the fucking Joker  _ was at large, the best course of action was to punch Jason while ordering him to back off. As if.

The problem being, Jason had no idea where the Joker was. He had followed a few leads, all of them dead ends. Not that he could just go crash in one of his safe houses and ignore the situation, but he felt like he was chasing after his own tail, probably because he was. The Joker was good at worming himself out of sight until he decided to come back on stage, usually with a bang.  _ Damn him _ .

Jason shifted his weight to the leg opposed to his bruises, annoyed. At this hour, his informants would be asleep; not that he hadn’t talked to all of them already. Maybe he could consider taking a shower and changing to yet another helmet, until he had the time to repair this one.

Of course, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a small beep informed him that someone had broken into one of his hideouts. He swore, checking his cell, then blinked. The alarm had been triggered in  _ the flat _ .

If this was Dick Grayson taking some vacations in Gotham, he was going to punch him back to Bludaven.

Jason hadn’t gone back those last two weeks. He could have, for the contrast with Gotham if not for the sex, but last time he’d felt kind of worried and that just wasn’t something Jason did. 

Other people’s lives weren’t his business. Alright, let’s be fair.  _ Non-criminal people _ ’s  _ lives _ weren’t his business. Especially not Dick Grayson’s. Dick Grayson was a (mostly) functional adult and had been in the vigilante business longer than anyone but Batman and Superman themselves. He wasn’t Jason’s problem. Jason had no reason to worry about him, much less act on it. So, no Bludaven.

Jason fired his line, grunting as its pull made his ribs shift. Gritting his teeth, he headed back to his bike. He didn’t intend to find himself without wheels in case the GCPD found a lead on the Joker.

He parked next to the flat’s building a few minutes later, then hauled himself up to its window. The breaking had been neat, leaving no trace except for the triggered alarm. Jason scanned the inside of the flat through the glass. A recognizable blue mask was laying on the floor.

“For  _ fuck’s sake _ …”

Jason opened the window and entered, jaw squared. Dick was sitting on the only chair, and looked up at him.

“What are you doing here?” Jason spat.

“Waiting for you.”

“The last time you came here, the heating wasn’t on. Because I don’t use this place anymore. Because  _ you know of it _ . What the hell made you think I’d come?”

Dick straightened up, his posture going from relaxed to tense in a second, his jaw setting.

“I see it was a mistake.”

Jason very much wanted to punch him in the face. How  _ dared _ Dick react like that when he just appeared out of nowhere, thinking he’d be welcome? Yeah, they chased after each other a few times, that didn’t mean he could just pop up whenever he wanted! It’s not like he could do it by mistake, Bludhaven was close but not  _ that _ close!

And… it was exactly what he would have thought about Jason when he found him in Bludhaven, wasn’t it? Well, fuck him. Jason hadn’t  _ broken into his flat _ to  _ wait for him _ , damnit!

Dick grabbed his mask to put it back on his face. That’s when Jason took in the deep bags under his eyes. So he too was tired. Well, fuck him. Dick had been tired for months, as far as Jason could tell.

There was no real reason for it, but the rage which had been building in his gut since he heard of the Joker escaping choose that moment to spurt out. Jason’s vision blurred, and he realized too late that it was because he’d moved too fast for his brain to register. By then, his hands had closed around Nightwing’s throat, his whole body pushing his against the wall hard enough for Dick to arch.

“Nghz!”

Jason released his throat, but – fuck,  _ fuck  _ – Dick could  _ take it _ , he was  _ strong _ , he could – Jason punched him in the gut, then on the face. His third blow was stopped dead. A sharp pain exploded in his abdomen.  _ Fuck _ . His ribs.

Breathless, he bent over – right into Nightwing’s knee. The crack in his helmet widened. He took a few steps backward, dropping to the ground by instinct. The incoming kick missed him and he managed to grab Dick’s ankle. Fire burned his muscles as they extended. He still pulled, gritting his teeth.

Nightwing rolled away, but Jason didn’t let go. His abdomen hurt too much for him to be subtle. He just crashed on the lighter man, effectively pinning him to the ground.

“Fuck you, Hood!” Dick swore, struggling.

One of his knee hit Jason’s side. This time, a moan escaped his throat. It felt good, though. The pain cleared his mind.

_ Inflicting  _ pain had the same effect.

He grabbed Dick’s head by the hair. Dick twisted underneath him, bracing against Jason’s body to push his head to the ground, effectively preventing Jason from lifting it. So Jason pulled it instead, uncovering his throat. Dick’s back arched a little more. One of his fists hit the helmet, then again, then  _ again _ .

“Fuck!” Jason swore as one of his eyes lost the helmet’s protection.

Dick smirked, his thighs locking around Jason’s waist. Too late, Jason rolled away. He only managed to invert their position, Dick turning with him and  _ sitting on his chest. _ Jason’s scream of pain choked in his throat as his breath caught.  _ Fuckingmotherofagun _ .

Dick slid from his chest to his hips, allowing him to inhale. It burned, but his chest didn’t make any strange sound, which had to mean his ribs were still in one piece and not poking around his organs. Yet.

“You fucker,” Jason managed, still fighting to get some air in his lungs.

Dick’s smirk had a mean edge.

“You’re usually the one doing the fucking. Looks like you won’t manage today, though.”

Fuck the pain. Jason bucked, counting on the element of surprise to kick Dick from where he sat. The effort was cut short by another wave of fire between his ribs and Jason found himself on his knees, panting.

Dick tilted his head. He hadn’t been thrown very far; the frame of the bed had stopped his fall. He even looked comfortable, leaning against the wood. Damn him.

“How badly have you been injured, exactly?”

“Not… your. Business,” Jason managed.

Dick snorted, then extended his arms to reach the helmet’s back. It opened with a suspicious absence of hissing; the system was busted. Jason took a breath as deep as he dared. Yeah, that was already better.

“You owe me another one,” he pointed out when he felt like his lungs wouldn’t spontaneously combust.

“It was already broken.”

Jason glared.

“It was cracked, not actually in pieces.”

“You look like shit,” Dick commented.

Jason raised his eyebrows at that.

“Pot. Kettle.”

He wasn’t even exaggerating. Though possibly Dick didn’t have problems breathing, nor had he scratches all over his face.

At least the fight had blown some of their steam. Jason still felt the rage in his gut, but not ready to explode any minutes as it’d been when he first arrived. It wasn’t enough for him to sleep, and now that his mind had cleared a bit, he admitted he had to rest if he wanted to be up to whatever the Joker was planning.

Jason wondered if Dick had come to Gotham because of his escape. Had he helped Bruce? Or had Bruce benched him because of course the man wouldn’t trust anyone’s help against his so-called nemesis?

Though in their state, neither of them would be of much help anyway.

“Get on the bed,” Jason ordered, putting his holster away so it wouldn’t press against his side.

Dick blinked. Jason glared.

“Just sit on the fucking bed,” he repeated, moving forward without getting up. He would have more balance on his knees, which meant less movement, hence less pain. Penetration wouldn’t be possible today, not in his state; but he did need something.

He could just hope Dick wouldn’t notice it wasn’t just  _ sex _ .

Dick seemed to realize the general idea and hauled himself up to sit on the bed. When Jason reached him, he gracefully raised his hips so Jason could pull the lower part of Nightwing’s suit down to his boots, giving him access.

Then of course, Jason had to bite Dick’s thighs because, hey. He wouldn’t want the golden boy to take things for granted.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Dick hissed, making Jason’s lips curl as he moved to bit another piece of skin, moving up and inside the thigh, where it was more sensitive.

At the third bite, Dick’s right hand gripped his hair, and Jason had to hide his consequent shudder by sucking on the reddening skin. The moan Dick produced seemed to indicate the distraction was a success.

Jason ignored his half-hard member to go bite the other thigh, which wasn’t adorned enough for his taste. Dick’s second hand joined the first, his fingers curling against Jason’s skull, sending small shivers alongside his spine.

In retaliation, he ran his tongue on Dick’s cock length, just to get the taste of it, before going back to the thigh. This time, the sound produced by Dick’s throat is lower and much more satisfying. His fingers tightened on Jason’s hair, which forced him to lick on the cock again, just a quick lap, then bite, then alternate quickly between bites and licks in a rhythm that seemed to drive Nightwing effectively crazy.

“ _ Fuck _ , Jason.”

“Not today,” Jason reminded him, just because he could.

Then one of Dick’s thumb slid from Jason’s scalp to the small hollow at the bottom of his skull, and he had to close his mouth on the cock to muffle his moan. From the way Dick’s hips bucked uncontrollably, it was none too early, so Jason made the best of it and gave a tentative suck.

He  _ felt _ Dick locking his hips into place, his fingers tensing not to push his head forward, and he really couldn’t have that. He moved his tongue against the cock in his mouth, not quite sucking it anymore, holding it there without giving any real pressure. Dick cursed.

“Fuck, just,  _ please _ , okay?”

Except Jason wasn’t going for begging. He closed his teeth around the cock, careful not to actually scratch the skin, then released it to give a quick suck. The fingers tensed once more, and this time, Jason sucked harder. The hips moved forward, just a little bit, and he took the cock deeper, coaxing him to push in. Dick seemed to get the idea at last.

“Are you, nhh, sure? I could… hurt you.”

Jason took him in deeper as only answer. In case the edge of pain hadn’t been part of their embraces since the beginning, he’d still let Dick know if he ever hurt him  _ too much _ , as he should have realized already.

At last, Dick started moving, carefully at first, then with more certainty as Jason’s throat relaxed to let him in. Jason put his hands on the abused thighs, scratching the bite marks, and finally Dick tightened his grip, pushing Jason’s head forward to meet his movements.

Jason closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing to match Dick’s rhythm, on the fingers holding him still, on the movement inside his throat, and felt himself relaxing at last. Fuck if Dick noticed. This felt too good not to enjoy it.

For both of them. Dick’s restrain usually didn’t extend to Jason, and Jason was starting to see how Dick needed the release. The freedom to hurt, because he had someone who could  _ take it _ . Who could retaliate. Who shuddered as he fucked his mouth, his hand trembling as it released Dick’s thigh to go free his own swollen cock and rub it in rhythm, at least until there was still one.

Then Dick came in Jason’s mouth, not pulling back, making him swallow, and the tension of those hands holding him in place was enough to send him over the edge as well.

After a moment, the grip relaxed. Jason pulled back, licking his swollen lips with something close to contentment. He bit the tender skin next to his face once more for the hell of it. Both of Dick’s hands were still resting on his skull, one of them petting his head distractedly.

Dick had let himself fall on the bed, putting Jason out of his vision, and it was the only reason why Jason let himself relax for a few minutes into afterglow. Then a few more minutes because, hell, it had been a while since he had indulged in this specific kink of his.

He certainly never had with anyone who actually  _ knew _ him.

That thought startled him out of the moment, as it should. He got back on his feet with a groan.

Dick was asleep. The little shit. Jason fought hard not to start laughing at the idea of the golden boy  _ passing out _ from a blowjob. Then again, he had looked dead on his feet when Jason had arrived.

With a shrug, he headed for the shower. He needed to clean himself, to change, then to head to another safe house which would actually be  _ safe _ and where he’d be able to sleep for a couple of hours.

To enjoy the way his muscles and mind both had relaxed at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think it would be _that_ easy, did you? :p


	6. Chapter 6

Some people were just bad at taking care of themselves. Admittedly, having been Robin made things worse. It had to do with being taught that the Mission came before anything else, self-preservation included. Bruce made a perfect example of that attitude by throwing himself into danger to save even criminals.

However, Jason used to think the others coped better than himself. They still talked to each other, after all; Dick had a lot of friends, a team; Drake looked more balanced than one ought to be when one spent one’s nights on rooftops. And yet.

Following what he had seen the last two times he’d met Dick, Jason had taken the time to investigate a bit. Dick had been working full time in BCPD for months now. Nightwing’s nightly activities hadn’t reduced. He’d patrolled as often as ever and still moved like gravity was optional.

However, past first glance, his exhaustion was obvious. He mostly fought small time thugs, yet got wounded. He was sloppy, not doing as much for the city as Jason would have expected of him. He collapsed as soon as he got back home from patrol. Jason had even spotted him sprawled on his bed in full costume, snoring loudly, fallen asleep even before removing his mask.

That situation was _dangerous_. Not that it was Jason’s business.

Still, one wondered how much better the city would fare had Dick taken the time to sleep. And how much he didn’t notice.

A lot of the gothamites criminal organization had operations in Bludhaven, far from the Bat’s attention yet close enough to be of use. They shipped merchandise and stocked weapons in the ‘haven. It should have been Dick’s role to stop them.

Obviously, he wasn’t in shape to do so. Just as obviously, it wasn’t Jason’s place to point it out to him, especially considering how he’d reacted last time Jason had as much as mentioned his tiredness. Not that Jason had minded the consequences at all, at the time.

Jason caught the sight of a blue-and-black bike in his rear-view mirror. There was no mistake about who was riding it.

He smirked under his helmet as adrenaline started pumping in his veins. There was one thing Jason _could_ do for Dick Grayson. And he certainly didn’t mind.

He accelerated, then took a turn right, his arm brushing the ground as the bike titled to follow the imposed curve. There was a certain amount of traffic at this hour, but not so much for him not to be able to dodge the car, though people started horning at him.

Then, suddenly, the cars started pulling on the side to let them pass, and he laughed under his helmet. _Bludhaven_. Those people were as bad as Gothamites, so used to vigilante chasing villains in the streets that they were ready for it.

Unfortunately, that played in Jason’s disfavor. He accelerated once more, the bike’s motor roaring, and headed for Hicks and Travis – the city center’s biggest crossroad. Certainly the most busy too, at this hour.

To his credit, Dick accelerated as well, right on his heels. Jason grinned as he reached the crossroad: the traffic light had just turned red.

At the very last minute, he dodged the stopped cars to drive into the metro station’s stairs, honking to warn the passerby to clear off, half-standing on his bike, his legs and arm absorbing the worst of the stairs’ bumps. Dick didn’t seem to follow; Jason laughed out loud when reemerging on the other side of the crossroad, delighted by his own trick.

Then he saw Dick’s bike right beside him, coming back into the traffic from the _fucking walls_.

“You’re NUTS!” Jason yelled, pulling on the bike to turn left, avoiding impact.

He reached a side street, then went for a smaller alley, turning left then right, trying for the highway. If he could stay ahead for long enough to reach Gotham, especially through the Bowery, even Dick’s best skill on a bike wouldn’t be enough to keep chasing him.

Of course, Dick was very aware of that himself. Jason heard a soft _thump_ as he felt something landing on his back – then it _pulled_.

“ _Holy shit!_ ”

His body was shaken backward. He let go the handlebar, the bike kept going without him. Another shock, and he stopped in the middle of the alley, four feet up, strong wires tying him to the buildings on both sides.

It took five good seconds for his brain to assess the situation.

“You’re _insane_ , you _fucking dick!_ If my bike has _even a scratch, you fucker!_ ” he yelled as soon as he got enough breath to do so.

Underneath him, Dick had stopped, and was laughing his ass off. Fucker.

Jason used his kris to cut the left wire, using his momentum to crash on his opponent, kicking him off his own motorcycle.

“I _liked_ that bike!” Jason swore, trying to grab him, to push him against a wall.

“Shouldn’t use it to provoke me then,” Dick mocked, dancing around his hands, about as easy to catch as water.

Apparently, someone had had a good night’s sleep, for once. That didn’t discourage Jason who just went for blows instead. He didn’t need to touch Dick often; he just need to give hit him once, at the right place. Thankfully, his ribs didn’t hurt anymore, or almost so. Certainly not enough to impediment his movements.

They alley was narrow enough to prevent Dick from using his most frivolous acrobatics, which meant he had to go straight to the point. Grabbing the right rope still hanging from Jason’s back, he jumped behind him and pulled. Jason swore, going for his knife to cut himself loose; but then the rope was wrapping around his throat.

When Dick tugged on it this time, Jason gasped, stepping back until he felt Dick’s arm settling around his waist.

“Uncle?” he whispered, his grin against Jason’s neck.

“Fuck. You,” Jason growled, trying to kick him away.

Dick only wrapped the rope more tightly around his hand, forcing Jason to arch his back. This time, instead of a grin, teeth met Jason’s skin. His moan was thankfully suppressed by the rope, but there was nothing to hide his shudder.

Dick laughed. He should be forbidden to laugh in such moments, Jason thought. It sounded _sinful_.

Surrendering, he bent his knees to get closer to Dick’s hand, to loosen the rope a bit. Dick inhaled sharply; so maybe he hadn’t expected Jason to capitulate so soon. That, or he liked the idea of having him at his mercy.

Jason shivered. Fuck. He _should_ have fought more. Maybe he could still…

Dick yanked downward. _God_. He was forcing Jason down, and Jason followed, his knees buckling until they touched the cold pavement, his hands fumbling to close around the rope. He was trembling now, his breath too constrained for him to pant properly, wishing he could see Dick’s eyes without that fucking mask so he could decipher his expression. Was it lust? Disgust? Surprise?

Probably not contempt, because Dick bent forward to grab Jason’s jacket, smashing a kiss on his mouth, devouring him as soon as Jason spread his lips.

At this point, Dick joined him on the ground, releasing his grip on the rope. Jason got it away from his throat, trying not to break the kiss, shuddering as Dick gripped his hips. Fuck, _fuck_...

He still stopped him when Dick tried to move his jacket out of the way.

“You _are_ nuts,” Jason commented, fighting back a flinch when he realized how hoarse his voice sounded from the strain. “I’m not fucking here.”

This time, there was no way Jason didn’t drag Dick back to a flat. Rooftop sex wasn’t half as sexy as it sounded, especially considering the state of Bludhaven’s roofs; not that Gotham was any be better. Having to come back all the way from Bludhaven before having access to a shower had only made it worse.

And here, there weren’t even on a rooftop. Better not think about what happened in this alley even just in the last few days.

Dick growled at him. That sound was even worse than his laugh.

“I don’t have safehouses.”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“You bad, bad bat. How the fuck do you even manage?”

“Hey, I _live_ here!”

“I live in Gotham and I have safehouses.”

“You don’t _live_ in Gotham. You _only_ have safehouses there.”

“I only have safehouses, period. Now are you going to invite me to your flat, or do I have to drag you all the way to Gotham to use my place?”

“Do I have to carry you over the threshold too?” Dick mocked.

Jason glared. Which, of course, didn’t have much of an impact through his helmet, now that he thought of it.

“Well, you sure will have to carry me there, since _someone broke my bike_. Except if you prefer to leave yours here?”

Dick winced.

“In the middle of Bludhaven? Even _I_ am not that crazy.”

Jason got back on his feet to check the state of his ride, just in case, but it had crashed into a wall at high velocity. The steering was busted. He swore.

“Even if I had a damn van, the wheels would be gone by the time I came back to recover it.”

Dick embraced him from behind, kissing his neck.

“I’ll lend you one of mines to get back.”

“I don’t do _blue_ ,” Jason protested.

Dick snorted.

“Don’t you?”

Jason elbowed him, which only made Dick laugh. Then he went back to his own back, putting it back on its wheels.

“So. Do I have to tie you up, or…?”

“Only for special occasion,” Jason commented drily.

Not that he would let anyone impediment his movements, even for good sex. Issues. Though anyone sane would decide against being _tied up_. After all, what would happen if someone busted in or something?

Jason cut that line of thoughts, sitting behind Dick instead. There was some charm at riding a bike with Nightwing, he decided, as the engine started.

They were at Dick’s place in minutes. The adrenaline rush had run a bit low, so Jason wasn’t quite distracted enough not to notice the lack of security whatsoever. Hell, the lack of _privacy_. There were other people in the building, people he had seen interact with Dick public self on several occasions.

And the idiot went in and out through his fucking window. It was a true wonder than everyone didn’t know who Nightwing was just yet. Did he even realize the risk?

A warm body pressed against his, diverting his attention.

“Less thinking, more fucking.”

“You admit I do have the capacity to think?” Jason pointed out. “Small wonders.”

“Well, you do try. Now, come on, Jason.” Dick’s voice was getting lower. Jason wondered if that was how he sounded when he talked during sex. They hadn’t exactly held conversations the other times. “Give it to me. This anger. _Everything._ ”

Jason shivered, turning around to press right back against Dick, pinning him against the wall, a hand next to his face. Dark places inside him wanted him to close it around Dick’s throat, to make him feel what he had done to Jason earlier; to make him pay, and to make him enjoy it, like Jason had.

He breathed in, hiding his thoughts behind a smirk.

“I doubt you can take that, summer child.”

A quick movement against his right foot, a push on his shoulder, something blocking his leg from moving so he couldn’t regain his balance. He just had the time to twist a bit in order to control the fall with his arm before hitting the ground loudly, Dick landing on top of him. The smaller man loomed over him, his smile sharp.

“I don't need fucking butterflies, Jason,” he said, and yes, it was definitively the voice. “Just the… intensity. And you got it. Now _fuck me._ ”

Jason gripped his face between his hands, kissing him, biting him, hoping that, on the next morning, they would both be bruised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going much quicker than anticipated. Ah, well.  
> In any case, I'm looking for a Beta-reader, since my English could still use some improvement. If anyone is interested, please let me know :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to AmethystWonder and Werevampwolf for the Beta! :)

How this had become a thing, Jason had no fucking clue.

His eyes followed the curve of Dick’s neck, the muscles of his back, the lower part of which was hidden beneath the sheets. His body lay relaxed, slowly falling asleep, still smelling of sex. He was objectively gorgeous.

They had seen each other twice since that night when Jason’s bike crashed – and it had been the _last time_ Jason had raced with Dick. Not only did those things cost money, but Jason had had to go back to Gotham by _train,_ of all the mundane things to do.

Well, not exactly mundane. He’d travelled on the train’s roof. It wasn’t like he could have just walked in the station in full gear, and he couldn’t steal clothes from Dick without looking both obscene and ridiculous, considering the height difference.

Jason bit his lower lip not to move and just lick the place between Dick’s shoulder blades, to find an excuse to touch him. The sudden need had nothing to do with esthetics and everything with Dick giving his back to Jason, guard down, neck bared. This didn’t mean trust. People like them didn’t trust anyone, even Dick. And still…

Jason wanted to bite that throat. To kiss the corner of that jaw. To put his arms around that waist and hold him and choke him and… and just lay in the bed with him quietly, observing him until he fell asleep.

This mood was Jason’s cue to leave. Getting up from the bed was taking him more and more time each night. Jason hated it.

Dick shifted. The sheet, disturbed by his movement, fell a bit lower on his hips, uncovering three yellowing bruises and the upper half of a fading bite mark. Jason froze.

He remembered those marks, because he’d put them there. It had been glorious. Dick had moaned like he was dying and had come right as Jason bit him, his fingers deeply buried in his hole. All in all, pretty satisfying.

It had happened four days ago. Four days _only_. The marks hadn’t had the time to fade.

Jason swallowed. _Shit_. What was he _doing?_

“Leaving already?” Dick asked, apparently not as sleepy as Jason had assumed.

“‘Already’? It’s 4AM. I’m not the one who has to wake up in the morning,” Jason commented.

“Neither am I.”

Jason frowned. Dick had made sure to be assigned to day shifts when he’d joined BCPD, so he could patrol as Nightwing, well, at night – a terminal case of Bruce-itis as far as Jason was concerned. Had Dick realized the craziness of it at last?

“Giving yourself some slack on the vigilante side?” Jason inquired.

“No, on the cop side.”

Now, that tone was _way_ too neutral to mean anything good. And Dick was still showing him his back, which meant he didn’t want Jason to look at his face. Some muscles, previously loosened by the endorphins, had started to tense.

Jason dragged himself closer to him, not quite touching his skin but close enough for Dick to feel the heat of his body. He took the edge of the bandage covering Dick’s shoulder between his teeth, pulling on it just slightly so he’d feel it without the nurse’s job actually being damaged.

“Is it because of the gun wound?” Jason asked. It had been caused by Deathstroke a couple of days before. “Or did you do something too acrobatic while fighting Slade?”

Dick turned to face him at last, something dark at the edge of his smile. Fuck. Jason stopped himself from pulling him into a devouring kiss; he obviously needed to talk.

Jason wasn’t a goddamn psychologist, so he’d better make it quick. (One could even say that Jason had homicidal tendencies toward anything related to psychology, considering how _well_ they dealt with criminally insane behavior.)

“I was kindly asked to make a choice,” Dick spit, his sarcasm not quite managing to hide his bitterness.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“For God’s sake, Grayson, you’re such a drama queen! Can’t you just enjoy the endorphins and quit moping?”

Dick grabbed his hand and twisted it in retaliation.

“You might be a jerk, Jason, but fuck you. I loved that job.”

Jason shook himself free, unashamed to press on Dick’s wounded arm to make him let go.

“Then you’re a fool. It was never meant to be permanent and you _knew_ that. Even without the sleep deprivation, you can’t be a _vigilante_ and live surrounded by cops all day. They’re bound to notice something. It’s not like it’s their _job_.”

“This is Bludhaven. There’s no Jim Gordon around.”

Jason snorted.

“Well apparently there _is_.”

Dick’s eyes flashed with something brutal. Jason had to fight back a shiver, smirking instead.

Some would say he was pulling the darkest part of Dick out, provoking him into becoming more violent, into lashing out. If Jason had cared at all about what other people thought, he would have laughed to their faces. Whoever accused Jason of being bad influence couldn’t possibly know anything about Dick. He’d always been dark – they all were. He was just good at hiding it. But one could bottle up only for so long. He _needed_ to lash out. Better do it with someone who could not only take it, but enjoy it.

As things were, Jason didn’t care about what people said. And he certainly enjoyed Dick Grayson’s darker sides.

“Aw, does the truth _hurt_?” Jason mocked. “If you wanted compassion, you might have wanted to fuck Babs instead. Oh, wait – she would have called your bullshit as well. Poor little birdie.”

The punch caught him on the chin, not as hard as it could have been. It was hard to hit someone properly while lying down. Jason laughed with more spite than joy, barely even struggling when Dick pressed his wounded arm to his throat, choking him with all the help gravity kindly provided.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as his breaths grew shallower, his body shuddering despite himself. Dick snorted.

“I would call you a whore, but then what would that make me?”

“Pimp,” Jason mouthed, a reminder of an earlier conversation.

Dick shook him once, mindless of the strain on his wound.

“You’re such a piece of shit, do you know that? Hell, you do. You _want_ me to remind you of that.”

He eased the pressure, giving Jason a few seconds to catch his breath.

“Pot,” Jason coughed. “Kett– Hey, wow!” He protested as a manacle clicked around his wrist, its other half soon closing around the bed’s head. “What the fuck, Dick!?”

“I’m wounded,” Dick smirked. “It seems only fair to restrain one of your arms.”

“Fuck you!”

Dick sneered.

“No. Not this time.”

Jason’s eyes widened as Dick’s mouth crashed on his. His lack of breath thankfully turned his moan into a gasp, and he arched into the harsh embrace. A hand gripped his hip right where bruises weren’t done fading, sending a wave of pain laced with pleasure along Jason’s spine, and he didn’t find it in himself to pretend to protest when Dick let go, barely caressing his thigh in passing before finding his hole.

The fingers teased him, while Dick left biting marks all over his shoulders. Jason gripped Dick’s neck with his free hand, pressing him to bite harder, to _give_ more.

“ _Fuck_ you, just _go_ for it!” Jason snarled.

The bastard _grinned_ at him, removing his fingers from where they were entirely. Jason locked his legs around his waist to make sure he’d _stay right there_ , glaring at him.

“Really, Jason?” Dick whispered at his ear, licking the lobe. “You could have just told me.”

“Fuck you!”

“So you keep saying, and yet.” A finger brushed his hole, this time carefully lubed. Jason closed his eyes, fighting to not moan. “You look like you mean something else entirely.”

“What the hell do you want?” Jason barked. “I’m not going to fucking _beg_ if that’s what you’re – Oh God.”

The finger was slowly pushing inside, still teasing by not going all the way in. Jason bucked, but it had barely any effect at all with Dick’s body pressing on his. He was held against the mattress, unable to move, his lower position and bound arm making him pretty much helpless.

He grabbed Dick’s shoulder in his jaw and bit hard. Fuck. _Finally_.

“Yes,” Dick breathed, sounding almost awed. “Let me in.”

“You goddamn asshole,” Jason swore with all the hostility he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn’t much at the moment.

Abruptly, the finger moved, and Jason went rigid in a last try not to give up everything. He concentrated on his breathing, licking Dick’s shoulder where he’d last bitten, and slowly relaxed into the movement until a second finger joined the first.

It had been a while since the last time he’d been fucked, but not _that_ much of a while. If there was anything Jason knew, it was how to be provocative, and Gotham’s bars were filled with strong guys who liked to make young peacocks shut up, so it wasn’t like he’d ever had a hard time finding partners.

Most of the time, however, they only _looked_ stronger than him. They couldn’t actually manage to pin him down if he didn’t let them.

He tried to struggle, and Dick’s free hand pressed back on his throat. A sound escaped Jason’s mouth, and it was hard to label it as anything else but a whimper. Fuck. He pushed against it, his free hand gripping Dick’s hair to force him back, but Dick grabbed his arm to press it against the mattress, using his weight to prevent Jason from slipping away.

“If you want me to stop,” Dick started.

“Just _shut the fuck up_ ,” Jason hissed, and Dick laughed in his ear and added a third finger, crooking them to stretch him further.

“ _Good_ ,” Dick praised as Jason trembled with need.

Jason scratched his neck with his teeth, tugging uselessly on the manacle. The bed frame seemed sturdy enough to resist his strength, and Dick’s grip on his other arm felt equally unbreakable.

“This enough?” Dick asked.

“Just do it already!”

Dick released his wrist to grab his hair, forcing Jason to look at him directly.

“Don’t bullshit me. Is that enough?”

“Yes, it _is_ ,” Jason replied, his voice sounding steadier than he felt. “I don’t intend to tear a muscle, even for your cute ass.”

Dick scrutinized him, as in disbelief and, alright, Jason wasn’t the most self-preservation-oriented guy, but he wanted to _enjoy_ this, and he sure wasn’t an actual masochist. Liking to have some pain to spice things up didn’t mean he liked pain by itself, no thanks.

“Very well.”

The fingers slipped out. Jason kept his muscles relaxed, controlling his breath. Then Dick pushed one of his legs up, steadying it against his shoulder, and entered him. Jason couldn’t help but to clench around him; they both moaned.

“Fuck,” Dick gasped.

Jason laughed, because the joke didn’t get old.

“You could say that.”

But Dick kept pushing in, and soon he didn’t have enough breath for either laughing or joking. God. The strong, muscled body on him, _in_ him, pinning him to the bed, it was… _Fuck_.

Dick stopped. He was all in, and Jason had to count slowly to ten in his head to settle himself.

Then fingers dug into his hip, and Dick started moving – first with quick, short jerks then with slower, deeper thrusts – and Jason’s brain shut down.

“Fuck, please, God, _please_ go harder,” he begged as he arched into the movements, his head rolling back, uncovering his throat, and there was certainly a reason why he didn’t usually act like that, but the hell if he could recall it.

Teeth closed around the softer part of his shoulder as the thrusts became more brutal, and his moans softened into whimpers.

He _certainly_ came hard enough to let out a scream.

When he came back to his senses, his hips and waist felt sore with emerging bruises, his shoulders red with bites. His muscles had turned into jelly. His one free hand was buried in Dick’s hair. He didn’t want to move, ever again.

After a couple of minutes, Dick moved just enough to slip out of him. Jason was still too high on endorphins to protest. Something wet – oh, right, a mouth – sucked on the hickey of his shoulders. A faint noise escaped his throat. That felt good.

Eventually, his brain wired itself back in place. He still didn’t want to move, but he now remembered why he should.

“Pray unlock the damn manacle before I behave ungentlemanly,” Jason said, still too content to make it an actual demand.

“Sure,” Dick answered, and didn’t move.

Jason waited a moment, then nudged him.

“Come on, Grayson. You’re not falling asleep as long as I’m shackled.”

Dick grumbled, but dragged himself close enough to the bedstand to grab the key, then unlocked the manacle, all while still sprawled on Jason. He didn’t protest, merely rubbing his wrist. Thankfully, the bond had been part of Nightwing’s gear, hence designed to prevent prisoners fromto cutting their own skin by pulling on it too hard. Jason would still have bruises.

Now that Jason was free, Dick seemed to think he was allowed to sleep. Jason thought about kicking him away, then decided against it. Maybe he could just roll him away.

Maybe he could wait a few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> Honestly, do let me know.  
> I'm like a junkie each time I post a chapter, refreshing my inbox to see if I got any comments XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some action :)  
> Many thanks to my betas, AmethystWonder and Werevampwolf!

Breaking someone was easy. Society, as a whole, tended to do it by mistake. Jason himself remembered a few times (the worst of which being his return to life) when he’d been crushed to pieces.

Each time, though, he’d managed to tape himself back together. The resulting self probably hadn’t been as robust, and certainly not as innocent, as before, but he could still stand on his own two feet. He was used to it. The pain didn’t lessen but he was learning how to handle it. Mostly.

What he wasn’t used to was helping someone _else_ going through it. People just didn’t come to him asking for emotional support. Nor for support, period.

Except for Dick, apparently. Jason blinked, and double-checked the camera from his front door. Yes, it was him, and he looked… torn. Frowning, Jason went to open the door – and barely had the time to step back before Dick started sobbing, as if the movement had let something inside of him loose. Then he sunk on his knees.

“Hey, hey!” Jason exclaimed. This was kind of awkward: this specific safe house was actually a warehouse, not a flat. Gothamites knew when to mind their own business, but still, this could attract unwanted attention.

Dick didn’t seem to care about neighbors though, or about the hardness of the bare concrete floor, or even about its dubious cleanliness. He just seemed to collapse on himself, and the expression of his face… it was _crushing_. Enough for Jason to refrain from yelling at him.

Then Dick actually started to cry. And not a few, discreet tears either. No, it quickly became messy and wet, and fuck him if this wasn’t a total freak out. Not a panic attack; barely. But naked grief, laced with helplessness.

Jason felt the need to hold him close, and to punch him in the face – because, hey, what the hell was Dick doing _here?_ Didn’t he have friends or something? Why was he coming to _Jason_ of all people?

Instead of voicing those concerns which, admittedly, came from a rather hysteric part of his mind, Jason forced himself to remain calm.

“Dick?” he tried, getting on a knee as well to lower himself to Dick’s level, keeping some distance not to frighten him. “What the hell happened?”

“Haly’s,” Dick gasped in between sobs, his chest hiccupping at each syllable. “Fire. Everyone. Dead.”

Fuck. Not something they could fuck out, obviously. Which raised even more the question of what Dick was doing there.

For thirty solid seconds, Jason seriously contemplated the idea of just closing his door in Dick’s face. _Maybe_ calling someone afterwards (which meant Barbara, because Jason had never had any of the Titans’ phone numbers, and there was no fucking way he’d get in touch with _Bruce_ ).

Dick had no right to just burst into Jason’s personal space like this and cry. They weren’t friends. They sure as hell weren’t brothers.

Jason grit his teeth. Dick _had come_. He probably hadn’t thought things through, either. He was falling to pieces, and his reflex had been to come to Jason. It felt – confining. _Suffocating_.

Intimate.

It felt like a responsibility, too. Jason might be a jerk, but when something dropped his way, he made it his business to take care of it himself.

He was going to regret this, very, very soon.

Alright, first things first.

“I need you to get inside,” Jason told him in a voice he hoped to make both quiet and categorical. “Come on, just a few paces forward.”

Dick nodded, his body vaguely slumping a couple of inches in. He was trembling, his breaths ragged, his whimpers debilitating. His face was… Damn. Jason hadn’t thought Dick could be that affected by anything. If, however, Haly’s had indeed burned down… Yeah. He guessed that would do it. The circus probably was a reminder of a more innocent time, which would make its fall hard to cope with.

What bullshit. Dick was supposed to be stronger than that.

“Almost there, Wonder Boy. Can I help you?” he asked, careful to wait for Dick’s approval before putting his arms around his waist and dragging him inside, closing the door at last.

“Fire…” Dick kept going. “F-fire…”

“Yeah, I heard the first time,” Jason snapped despite his best intentions.

“Fire _fly_ ,” Dick managed at last.

Jason froze.

“ _What!?_ ”

“He was there. He– he just… God. I couldn’t get them all out.”

Suddenly, it wasn’t a matter of comforting someone anymore – nor punching him, for that matter, alluring as it might sound. This was something work-related, something Jason could work on, contrarily to sympathy. Definitely closer to his comfort zone. He grabbed Dick’s shoulders and gave him a harsh jolt.

“Give me _details_ ,” Jason demanded. “Give me a full report, damnit!”

Thankfully, the order seemed to cut through the shock and grief. Dick straightened slightly, his eyes still unfocused, but his mind snapping into post-mission mode all the same. Now _that_ was the Dick he knew. Sort of.

“It was during our act. He entered through the big top’s opening, and–”

“Stop. Start at the _beginning_ ,” Jason interrupted. “What were you doing at Haly’s?”

Not that he cared, but that might be relevant to the case. And that’s what this was going to be: a case. Nothing personal.

Yeah, and maybe his problem with the Joker wasn’t personal, either.

“I–I was called yesterday. Oleg died. Star flyer. Haly asked me to replace him for tonight’s act as a favor.”

“How did he die?” Jason asked, because Dick couldn’t have gone there and not investigated.

“Overdose. Sleeping pills– benzodiazepines. Weird. But, not impossible. I thought I’d dig more later, I thought– there was no rush.”

“Alright,” Jason cut off, to keep him from sinking back into sorrow. If Dick started breaking down again, he _would_ kick him out. Or at least punch him. Or maybe he should punch him anyway. “So, you still decided to replace him.”

Dick breathed in.

“Yes. The first part of the show went okay, people were cheering. It was– It felt good.”

The admission looked physically painful. How could it not have been, considering how the evening had ended up? Jason consciously decided to punch him at last – then, instead, relaxed his grip on Dick’s shoulders, putting an arm around them. _What the hell am I doing?_ he wondered, as Dick let himself slide against his chest, forgetful of the floor’s coldness.

“Firefly appeared barely after we started,” Dick whispered. “Everything happened quickly. All the material in circus is flammable. People started running, but with the terraces, it’s not easy to get out. They started walking over each other. I concentrated on helping them… I got back in several times… I collapsed, eventually. Zitka got me out.”

Of _course_ Dick would work himself out until he’d fucking _fainted_. Whoever the hell Zitka was, Jason owed them a big thank you for saving this idiotic jerk from himself. Or maybe he would have been better off with Dick burning along with the damn circus.

His throat clenched at the thought. He forced himself to swallow. The case. He had to concentrate on the case.

“Alright. So, to summarize: no one could have known in advance that you’d be there. Which means Firefly has a grudge against Haly’s, or was hired because someone else has.”

Dick shuddered, but raised his head a little bit, his eyes focusing slightly.

“Maybe.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Jason pointed out.

“Are you?” Dick challenged, and if his body hadn’t been shuddering still, he would have almost sounded like himself. The report had at least had the advantage of stopping his tears, though his face was still wet from earlier.

Something loosened in Jason’s chest. He shook his head in answer.

“How many times have you performed an act with Haly’s since you became Robin?”

“Never.”

“And Firefly just happens to target the circus the first time you do? I call bullshit. Which means _you_ were the target. And they killed that trapeze artist guy to make sure you’d be there. Even if Haly’s hadn’t called you to replace him, you’d have gone to investigate his death, wouldn’t you?”

Dick pinched his lips.

“Yeah. I already did something like that once. Years ago. I went back…” Dick laughed, and it was as bitter a laugh as Jason had ever heard. It sounded the way Dick’s smile looked when he’d fucked him; the way he tasted when Jason bit him. “After you died. When I came back to Earth, I needed some time to myself. So I went back to the circus, and Wilhelm was killed. I helped during the investigation.”

Jason ignored the unease caused by this revelation (it was but one drop in the pool of discomfort induced by the whole conversation), and nodded thoughtfully.

“If Haly’s was the target – we can’t entirely dismiss the possibility of your presence there being a coincidence – I think it’s safe to assume there won’t be any further attacks for now. I mean, it’s going to take months for the circus to repair the damages, and its reputation certainly took a harsh blow. But if you were… Who the hell has so much of a problem with Dick Grayson as to target Haly’s? Did you get many enemies, as a cop?”

Dick shrugged, putting his head back on Jason’s shoulder. His whole body was still trembling, though less so than when he’d first collapsed. Jason didn’t know how to feel about it. He wasn’t supposed to be someone Dick relied on. Just someone Dick could lash out at.

“Yeah, of course. Most of them on the force itself. I would have thought that me having been fired would have calmed them down.”

Breaking someone was easy. To have a specific target in mind and reach this goal, however, was much harder. It required time, dedication, and money. Not just anyone could have hired Firefly. Not only could it not have been cheap, but contacting him in the first place would have been difficult. It took more than just a cop with a grudge.

Time, dedication, and money.

Shit.

“Did you go out for patrol since you got shot?” Jason asked, his tone harsher than he would have liked.

He felt Dick blink, his eyelashes tickling Jason’s throat.

“Yes?”

“Who did you cross paths with? Anyone who could have noticed the wound?”

This time, Dick tensed, and moved away from him.

“What the fuck are you trying to imply?”

“Is there a possibility of someone having made the link between Officer Grayson and Nightwing, Dick?”

Dick tried to punch him, his eyes widening when his fist actually met Jason’s cheek. Jason smirked. That had felt good. It also left Dick hesitating between anger and remorse, which was _much_ better than desperation in Jason’s book.

Besides, this anger was quite a tell. If this hadn’t been a tangible possibility, Dick wouldn’t have reacted quite as badly.

“Alright,” Jason spat, already regretting what would come next. He hated working on a team. He hadn’t been good at it when he was Robin and he didn’t improve with age. “Give me your suit.”

The request had the advantage to make Dick freeze.

“What?”

“Whoever pulled this might know your identity. If that is indeed the case, you can either kill them or convince them that Dick Grayson isn’t Nightwing. I assume you prefer the latter option. And,” Jason added before Dick could formulate an answer, “send your tenants away from your goddamn building. That’s where they’ll strike next.”

Dick frowned, too dizzy to catch up but back enough to his senses not to blindly follow Jason’s command.

“How do you know?”

“You’d know too if you were in your normal state,” Jason stated, getting back to his feet. It was time to stop whining and start doing. “Get them out. Cutting the electricity in the building would be a good way to go. Get them rooms in some hotel while repairs are ongoing – different hotels for each of them would be even better. Convince them to visit their relatives for a few days, or something.”

Dick glanced up, still frowning. Jason didn’t know what reaction he expected, but certainly not:

“You’re too tall to fit in Nightwing’s suit.”

Jason started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. For a second, a smile flashed on Dick’s lips; then to his surprised, it curled into a grin, and Dick joined him, laughing despite his grief. Jason snickered. This was so ridiculous, and the situation was so fucking serious.

He tried to calm himself, but it was just impossible. Dick was gasping for breath, tears rolling once more down his cheeks while he giggled, clutching an arm around Jason’s chest not to slip entirely on the ground.

Jason’s throat made a hiccupping noise as he tried to hold the laughter in, and the sound threw them both into a loop. When one managed to get a grip back on his sanity, he’d meet the other’s gaze and just start laughing again. They barely managed to stay mostly sitting rather than just sprawling on the ground.

Then Dick hid his face against Jason’s throat, and Jason felt tears on his skin, and he held the older man against him as tightly as he could, taking advantage of his broader shoulders to make himself into a shield between Dick and the rest of the world.

He couldn’t do much more here. Jason _wasn’t_ good at emotional support. But revenge? That, he could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reference: Nightwing v2 #88 is when Haly's is burnt down by Firefly :)  
> And I guess I'm adding UA in the tags, now, haha.  
> I hope you liked the chapter, even if it has a different mood from the previous one! It was about time real life caught on with whatever it is they have.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to post this so later after the previous chapter! I hope you'll enjoy it anyway :)  
> Many thanks to my betas, AmethystWonder and Werevampwolf!

They spent most of the night making plans. Nightwing’s suit _was_ too tight for Jason and required adaptations – hopefully not enough for whomever was behind this to notice. Jason also had to dye his hair to hide his white streak. Masquerading as Dick Grayson – now that almost felt nostalgic. Or rather, ironic. It would have been painful if Jason hadn’t been the one to propose it in the first place.

They used one of Jason’s aliases to book the hotel rooms so they would be ready to welcome Dick’s tenants when the electricity went off. They would have to be moved quickly: as soon as they got get them out, it would warn the culprit that he’d been spotted. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have enough manpower to target all the tenants separately once they’d left.

Of course, this was a bit paranoid. The building might not be a target. And maybe Crane wouldn’t have a plan for his next Halloween out of Arkham.

If nothing else, it kept Dick occupied. His hands were still shaking, but he was a good little bird and knew how to bury his emotions so the Mission could go on. Maybe it came from being raised in a circus. Wasn’t that what they said about shows?

However, they were running out of things to plan. Jason glanced at the clock. It was 5AM, still too early to start moving people around town. Dick’s shoulders were tense with the day’s stress. There was no way he’d manage to sleep.

So Jason did the only thing that worked on _him_ when he felt that desperate: he dragged Dick to bed.

“Now isn’t a good time!” Dick protested.

Since he wasn’t physically pushing him away, Jason ignored him, getting rid of their clothes instead.

“Jason!” Dick insisted, raising his voice. “I’m not kidding.”

Jason stopped, glaring at him.

“You need to _sleep._ ”

“As if _sleep_ was what you had in mind,” Dick mocked, which at least meant he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for himself.

“You’re telling me if I leave you now you’ll fall asleep?” Jason commented sarcastically. “If so, I’d be happy to oblige.”

After all, he wasn’t some kind of counselor. Who would come to _him_ for advice, anyway?

Maybe the same person who came to him for comfort, his traitorous brain whispered. He pushed the thought away, raising from the bed. Dick grabbed the front of his collar before he could finish the movement, pulling him back in.

“Can you _please_ make up your mind?” Jason huffed.

“You’re getting sex,” Dick snapped. “What are you complaining about?”

Jason shrugged, pressing his mouth against Dick’s, his hands starting to move on the muscular body beneath him. He remembered vaguely how Dick had behaved that one time they’d fucked while Jason was totally off; he’d been more careful than usual, warmer, with less teeth. It wasn’t exactly Jason’s specialty, but he guessed that Dick had done what _he_ would have liked if the situation had been reversed. Not everyone felt like getting fucked hard when they were down.

So Jason kept his movements careful, kissing where he would have bitten, caressing where he would have grabbed. Dick shivered in his arms, then started relaxing.

Something tightened in his chest at Dick’s surrender. This was too much. This shouldn’t come from _him_. Why the hell did the idiot pretend to trust him? He shouldn’t be there. He should be with someone _safe_.

But Dick was there, with him, and the idea of pushing him away turned Jason’s stomach even more than this fake intimacy. He forced himself to ignore the unease. Everything was going to be _fine_. This was just sex. Nothing to be stressed about. The next day, they would go back to the mission, and forget about this.

Jason fucked Dick slowly. When he came, he bit down his shoulder, trying to ignore the way Dick gasped his name, burying the hurting warmth spreading in his chest by inflicting physical pain.

Yet Dick curled against him, falling asleep in the blink of an eye. Jason forced himself to breathe evenly despite the constricted feeling in his throat. He was tired enough; he should be able to sleep despite Dick being there. Despite being so comfortable it hurt.

Jason forced himself to close his eyes. Less than five minutes later, he was asleep.

###

Jason managed to rest for a couple of hours. When he woke up next to Dick, still warm and asleep, trusting, the twist in his gut was still there. He couldn’t remember last time he’d woken up next to someone, if ever. It felt weird.

Staying there was even weirder, but they had work to do, so he swallowed his need to run away, pretending not to feel comfortable in the warm bed. It wasn’t different than laying against a stranger after sex.

The contrast with his usual loneliness _didn’t_ hurt. He didn’t _need_ any of this.

At 7.30, Dick opened his eyes.

“Time to go.”

Hope was a dreadful thing.

They ate quickly, then put in motion the first part of their plan, evacuating Dick’s tenants. A few of them had questions, but Jason loomed over them until they stopped asking – Bruce’s trick worked wonders on people who weren’t used to it.

Dick winked at Jason over their heads, silently thanking him for his help. Jason pretended not to be affected.

“Who is that, anyway?” asked a cute Asian girl to Dick, while waiting for her cab.

“We had the same foster dad, though not at the same time,” Dick answered without batting an eye.

She raised her eyebrows.

“So, he’s your brother?”

This time, Dick hesitated. She snorted.

“Right.” Then, turning to Jason. “Good luck with him.”

“Don’t worry. I’m used to handling drama queens,” Jason deadpanned.

Dick cast him an indignant look. The girl laughed.

Then the cab arrived and she left. She’d been the last one; it was time for them to get moving.

“Are you sure it’s Blockbuster?” Jason asked, not for the first time.

“No,” Dick answered, which proved that at least he wasn’t delusional. “Not many people have the money to pull this off. Besides, we found proof last night that Tarantula has been in contact with him. Some thugs might have noticed my wound but I doubt it. _She_ did for sure.”

“And your gut agrees,” Jason commented.

Dick didn’t quite smile while putting his holster on.

“And my gut agrees.”

Jason wiggled into the Nightwing’s suit, and they took off, Dick in his car and Jason following through the rooftops. Dick was supposed to be first on site anyway.

When Jason arrived, he had already been beaten up by security and tied up, hands over his head, to a rope hanging from the ceiling in the basement, which thankfully had a very high ceiling. From what Jason could spot, he still had taken three guards down before getting caught, all of them by gunshots – none of which had been lethal, of course.

It was a pity Jason couldn’t have played _that_ role.

Still. Blockbuster towered over Dick’s smaller frame, grinning. Some people really should just avoid smiling at all. It made his face even uglier.

“You can keep pretending if you want,” the criminal said. He casually smacked Dick’s face with the back of his hand, making his whole body jerk because of the sheer power behind even such an effortless move. Jason gritted his teeth. “I still _have_ you.”

The hell he did. Jason threw the first smoke pellet and dropped on the ground to join the party, staying clear of Blockbuster and taking out a couple of his men instead. There was nothing like lack of visibility coupled with people screaming. Pity he couldn’t just end them, but he was there as Nightwing. He might as well be generous and follow the rules.

A guy fired, despite the smoke, panicking. The idiot. He might hit Dick!

“How did you do that!?” Blockbuster howled. “You were tied up!”

Jason made sure to be safely back on the beams when the smoke cleared – at which point the criminal realized that Dick was still hanging in his cuffs.

“What the…”

Dick cast him his most poisonous glare, which, okay, was barely below murderous.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think is happening, but I swear I will…”

Blockbuster grabbed him by the throat, casually lifting him from the ground.

“Who the hell _is that?_ ” he roared.

Dick tried to gasp for air, unable to answer. That was _it_. Jason cast two wing-ding, aiming at the criminal’s wrists, and a third one a second later to cut the rope binding Dick to the roof. Blockbuster was surprised enough to let go and Dick rolled away just as Jason dropped on the villain’s back.

“ _What!?_ But you were…”

“Monitoring your activities, even during the day?” Jason interrupted. “That much is obvious.”

“No, it’s impossible!”

It was almost cute how Blockbuster swallowed the whole thing. What _wasn’t_ cute was the way he crushed Jason’s ankle when he grabbed it, throwing him around like a ragged doll. Fuck superpowers.

“Superman is never around when you need him,” Jason commented, rolling to reduce the impact. Not that he ever needed Kal’s help, but that was something Nightwing could have said.

… and apparently Blockbuster knew as much, because he lost a second looking around for the Big Blue. Jason plunged toward him, using his whole body to trip him; but the damn monster was more agile than his bulk suggested.

He heard gunshots and abruptly relaxed, because he knew he didn’t have to worry about the few thugs left. Dick would take care of them. Dick would watch his back.

It almost felt like home.

A hand like a bear’s paw grabbed his head to lift him from the ground, distracting him. Jason wished he had his guns; he had to settle for the escrima sticks instead, using their taser at maximum intensity. Blockbuster barely winced. But then, there was still a wing-ding stabbed in his wrist and _those_ were in metal, hence highly conductive.

With a smirk, Jason aimed the sticks there, focusing their whole power on a single point of contact. _That_ got Blockbuster to open his hand. With all the grace he could muster – he was supposed to be Nightwing after all – Jason jumped on his muscular arm, running over it to reach the man’s back.

“ _ENOUGH!_ ”

At that point, Jason’s vision suddenly turned red. How _dare_ he? Raging, cursing, when he was just _scum_. That ugly face distorted with anger, when he had raised his hand on Dick. When he had _cut him to pieces_ by going after the cherished memory of his family, the only place that should always have felt _safe_.

He deserved to be torn apart.

Jason dodged his paws, jumping on a beam, then back down on him, feet first. With a twist of his abdomen, he turned around the criminal’s arm, using it like an asymmetric bar. Blockbuster screamed his rage again, his jaw wide open to express the intensity of his feelings.

The escrima stick fit right in.

The shout stopped dead, strangled by the weapon. Jason smirked. And turned the taser on.

Blockbuster’s eyes widened with the certainty that this was it, that he was going to die there. The realization felt like a punch in the gut. Jason stopped the taser right away. What had he been _thinking?_ He couldn’t just _kill_ the guy, certainly not with Dick _right there_. Thankfully, Jason knew the taser hadn’t been activated long enough to kill someone as superpowered as Blockbuster. Even an average non-meta might have gotten away with it.

It _was_ however enough of a shock – _huh_ – for Blockbuster to collapse on the ground, the sound echoing around the basement. Damn. What a mountain of a man.

Jason removed the escrima stick from his gaping mouth, breathing hard, his own heart beating frantically.

That’s when he realized that Blockbuster wasn’t breathing anymore.

“No…”

Dick’s voice was trembling. Jason put his escrima away and removed a gauntlet, willing his hands to stay still. He touched the criminal’s throat, checking for a pulse. He didn’t find any.

“Oh no…” Dick whispered, almost a sob.

It was impossible. Blockbuster had enhanced strength. The escrima stick were meant for normal humans. His _skin_ wasn’t what protected him. Even going through his mouth shouldn’t have had such a severe impact. Jason _knew_ that. He didn’t kill _by accident_ , so Blockbuster couldn’t be _dead_.

“Jason, what did you _do_?” Dick asked.

The words tore Jason apart like a blade. He didn’t kill by accident. So of course, for Dick… He had done this on _purpose_.

And hadn’t he? He had wanted, so _badly_ , to kill him. He had _decided_ to end him.

“You killed him,” Dick said, his voice flat, condemning.

And Jason had. Accident or no accident, it didn’t matter in the end.

“I took you with me, I _trusted_ you, and you killed him.”

So Jason did what he always did in front of fatality: he smirked. That was the face he had presented Death. He could do the same when hope was murdered instead of himself.

Dick raised his chin at that.

“I can’t stop you now.” He couldn’t, not with Jason wearing all his gear and Dick empty-handed. “But I will. I will track you. I will _hunt_ you. And I will bring you down.”

There was nothing else to add to this. Jason coughed out a laugh, briefly, and grappled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't hope this was going to get any easier now, did you? :p


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are to the last chapter!  
> I'd planned things differently, but Jason and Dick had their own ideas.  
> (Granted, I hadn't expect this fic to last more then 4-5 chapters max)  
> Once last time, thank you to AmethystWonder and Werevampwolf for the Beta!

When Jason received the notification of the flat’s security warning him of a break in, at first, he couldn’t believe his eyes. When he realized that, yes, Dick Grayson had dared to come back to his place, to trigger his security as if he could just _summon him_ – Jason threw the cellphone on the ground and stepped on it, crushing it with a satisfying noise.

Then he stopped to think for a second and concluded this had to be a trap.

The whole debacle with Blockbuster had happened a month ago, and Jason had made sure not to cross path with any of the Bats since, even if it had meant lying even lower than usual. He knew how to survive in the streets, anyhow; he sure had more skill to do so properly now than he’d had at 10. Or at 13, for that matter.

In any case, there was no point going. If Nightwing and Batman had teamed up, even Jason’s knowledge of the Bowery wouldn’t be enough for him to slip away without triggering some of the explosives he’d rigged around the town – and, really, those were only for emergencies.

Three days later, he spotted Nightwing patrolling around the _warehouse_. Anger flared from his gut, leaving his fists aching with the need to punch.

However – Jason wasn’t stupid enough to get himself captured. He checked the perimeter _first_.

Batman didn’t seem to be around. Now, Batman _never_ seemed to be around, but Jason knew most of his tricks. It almost looked like Nightwing was there alone.

What the fuck did he want from Jason?

Actually, better ask _him_ directly.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Nightwing winced, turning around to face Jason who, of course, had landed behind him. Just in case. As no one jumped from the shadows to attack him, Jason focused most of his attention on the threat who was now facing him.

It was hard to be sure with the mask on, but he looked less tired than he’d been in the last few months. Jason tensed. Of _course_ he would be, with Blockbuster off his ass and Jason out of the picture. Fucker.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” Jason threatened.

“I know it wasn’t,” Nightwing breathed out with something that Jason refused to call relief. “I told B. about us.”

What could Jason do at that but laugh in his face?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked when he managed to calm down.

“Call it what you want, but the two of us fucking each other is kind of relevant,” Nightwing answered.

“Relevant to what? To the mission?” Jason mocked. “That’s _rich_. Or is it because I’m a ‘criminal’?” he added, miming the quotation marks.

“Because he is _family_ ,” Nightwing retorted.

“Fuck off,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t _care_ about–“

Nightwing tackled him against the wall, grabbing the collar of his jacket.

“No. You’re going to _listen to me_ ,” he hissed into Jason’s helmet. “ _Bruce_ knows now. I told him. Hell, Babs knows. _Tim_ knows. Everyone. And they all told me the exact same thing: that I was out of my fucking mind.”

Jason felt a chuckle bubble up his throat again, and didn’t fight it.

“Am I supposed to feel offended? You _are_ out of your mind. I thought you’d finally figured it out when I killed Blockbuster.”

The crude reminder made Nightwing flinch, but not enough for Jason to push him away. Instead, Nightwing tightened his grip.

“They told me to let you go. That I’d been right to finish it. Hell, they gave me an earful for letting the situation spiral out of control in the first place.” Nightwing stopped at this point, gritting his teeth for a second, before managing to pull himself together. “Bruce asked me where your safe houses were. Because you need to be stopped.”

Jason tensed. He couldn’t help it. He _knew_ how Bruce was, and he knew Bruce would never change, knew he’d always be the enemy. That Bruce would beat him up to prevent him from going after the Joker. That Bruce would slit his throat open rather than let him kill the son of a bitch in the first place.

Yet it still fucking hurt each time that fact was slammed back in his face.

“Your point being?” Jason growled, grateful for the helmet covering his expressions.

“I answered him that I had no idea where they were. That you wouldn’t use them anymore, not when I knew where they were. Not after what happened.” Nightwing – Dick, _curse_ him – punched the wall near Jason’s head. “I thought I had to check. That you’d left them.”

The _idiot_. He’d told him already that he wasn’t using the flat anymore since the _first_ time he’d been in it – it wasn’t _safe_ anymore if Dick knew where it was.

“That’s what you came to do? Check on me?” Jason barked a laugh. “You don’t have me on a goddamn _leash_.”

“Two months ago, I would have replied that we could try. And you’d have accepted.”

This time, Jason grabbed his fucking throat and _pushed_ , slamming him against the opposite wall of the alley.

“Fuck you. _Fuck you!_ ” he yelled.

The asshole _relaxed_ in Jason’s grip, staring at him right in the helmet’s eyes.

“I didn’t tell Bruce I was coming. When you killed Blockbuster… I ran, after you left. I made sure we’d never cross paths again.” He laughed. “I ran, because it was the right thing to do.”

Jason snarled. Dick smirked at him, nothing soft in his fucking perfect face, his rage matching Jason’s.

“Did you believe that?” Dick kept going. “Did you? Because it’s _bullshit_ I told to myself. I ran because I was _relieved_. Because he wouldn’t come for Haly’s or for my friends ever again.”

Jason froze. Those words – he knew they were true. Not only because they rang true, but because it was the _fucking point_. He didn’t do justice. He’d never pretended to. He did _revenge_ , and that’s what he’d given Dick, however unwillingly.

Then why– why were those words tearing him apart instead of relieving him? He should be glad. That Dick finally understood. Why was he feeling _sick?_

“And he’d only burnt the circus,” Dick continued. “Spectators died; no one from the circus itself. No one I personally knew. Just random people. And maybe I was down, maybe I didn’t feel that well at the time. But, it’s not like someone I trusted had betrayed me.” His hands rose to Jason’s collar again, then higher, grabbing his throat in the same grip Jason had on Dick’s. “It’s not like my own mother had sold me out. It’s not like you had kicked me out when _I_ came and was in need.”

Jason _forced_ the laugh out of his mouth.

“So what? You’re going to cut off the Joker’s head and offer it to me with a ribbon?”

“He’d love that way too much. I’m not saying that I agree with your methods, Jason.”

And those words– those specific words. God. Jason didn’t think he’d ever be so relieved to hear that someone didn’t agree with him. Because– because, _fuck_ , Dick Grayson was not _supposed_ to go around killing criminals. That was _Jason’s_ gig, and it was something he did because he _had_ to, because _someone_ had to, and to make sure _no one else would have to_.

Dick released his throat.

“Actually, I’m not convinced _you_ are that convinced, yourself. But, it would be kind of hypocritical of me to run _now_.”

Because even if he didn’t agree, he understood, now. Jason snorted.

“Hypocritical– but entirely unsurprising, too.”

The punch took Jason by surprise, but the helmet took the most of it.

“Exactly how much of a bastard do you think I am!?” Dick’s voice was full of rage and betrayal, and _what the fuck_ , who gave him the right–!

“Exactly as much of a bastard as you actually _are_ ,” Jason retorted, making his tone provocative. “And I would know, wouldn’t I? I _know you_. You showed yourself to me, even the parts of you you aren’t too proud of. Yet here you are, all self-righteous, so proud to admit you lied to yourself! Big fucking _deal_.”

He was trembling with rage and, to be honest, didn’t get why. Dick had balls for showing up and expecting to be accepted back – as if there was anything for him to come back to – but, well, he _had_ come back.

This whole situation. Jason couldn’t handle it. It was– unexpected didn’t cover it. And it _hurt_ , for some reason. Hurt so much he didn’t even feel like punching the asshole.

Running on instinct, Jason reached for the back of his helmet to remove it. That must have been a good idea because Dick froze when he saw his face.

“Jason.”

His tone was almost as careful as it had been in another alley, months earlier, when Jason had been about to put a bullet in a rapist’s forehead. The guy had deserved it, too.

“Jason…”

“Just, _shut up!_ ” Jason yelled again, throwing his helmet away because he couldn’t lash out at Dick – he didn’t trust Dick to take it anymore – but he still needed to lash out at _something_. “You don’t get to do this. You just don’t.”

Dick swallowed visibly.

“I don’t get to come back?” he asked in an insecure tone.

“ _There is nothing to come back to!_ ”

Jason was getting tired of yelling. He probably wasn’t done, though, because instead of grappling away, Dick took a step toward him. Jason tensed.

“If there wasn’t,” Dick said, still soft as hell, why was it so _careful_ , damnit– “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Jason almost snapped at that, because he didn’t want to hear this, he just _couldn’t_.

“I don’t need anyone.” It was a fact, so he said it in his most pragmatic voice. “I certainly don’t need _you_.”

Dick took one more step. Then another. The alley was really narrow, so it was enough for the two of them to face each other again. He raised his right hand to Jason’s face, no helmet between them this time, the tip of his fingers brushing against his cheek.

“We’re bad at talking,” Dick commented. “Can I– can I kiss you?”

“No!”

Dick’s lips still crashed on his, nothing subtle about it, yet, no teeth either. There was no technique, no focused intention, just– anguish? Jason wanted to protest but found himself closing his arms around Dick instead, kissing him back, desperate and raging and– fuck. _Fuck_. He didn’t _need him_.

“I don’t need you either,” Dick breathed against him when they broke the kiss.

Jason closed his eyes shut, shuddering with fear. Hope was a dreadful, dreadful thing.

“I can’t do this,” he murmured. “I just can’t, Dick, I can’t wait for you to remember who I am and to leave again.”

Dick’s laugh sounded as grim as Jason’s had been earlier.

“Yeah, well, I can’t do that either. Waiting for you to do something I wouldn’t be able to forgive.”

Jason felt himself relax. They weren’t doing this. Neither of them knew how to even start. Yet they’d already fucked each other – what, nine, ten times or so?

Jason had never fucked the same person twice before Dick. And how sad was that?

“Yet here I am,” Dick said. “And, fuck, Jason, you _do_ know me. I’m a jerk. I used you. I lashed out at you…”

“It was the fucking point, airhead. It doesn’t count if that’s what I wanted from you.”

“Yeah well, it won’t help the day I go all self-righteous on you _again_ ,” Dick commented. “You know I’m prone to that.”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m not asking you to change for my sake, dickhead. If you go back to being all fucking perfect all the time, I’ll probably cut your head off while feeling bad about being the bad one.”

Dick grinned, and for once, it was one of his sunny ones. The exact kind Jason hated. He glared.

“I’m not asking _you_ to change either,” Dick simply said.

Jason aimed a punch at his face, because there was only so much sugar he could take in one conversation. Of course, the idiot dodged. Jackass.

“So what, we wait for the other shoe to drop?” Jason asked.

Dick chuckled.

“I guess so?”

Jason echoed him. They _were_ bad at talking.

Dick kissed him again. The kiss tasted like last times. Jason felt adrenaline rush into his blood. If this was the last time– he had to make it memorable. Fuck, _if_ this was the last time–

Jason’s eyes widened at the realization. He didn’t _want_ it to be the last time.

He was kind of slow, wasn’t he?

He stepped back from Dick.

“Let’s go to the flat.”

Dick blinked.

“I thought you didn’t use it anymore?”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t own it anymore. It’s fully furnished. We’ll just have to turn on the heat and _why am I still talking?_ Less talking, more grappling.”

He fired his grapple on those words, not giving himself time to back down. A second later, he heard Nightwing fire his, following him. Feeling the wind on his face, he realized he’d left his helmet on the ground, _again_. He would have to go back and grab it later tonight.

Or maybe in the morning.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Dick might be a jerk from time to time, but he does care.  
> Also, Dick. Jason. Please stop talking.
> 
> Anyway, I didn't want to make this fic into what it's not, which would be, a longer one, including all the members of the Batfamily & associates, and that's what it would have become if I had kept going any longer, so.  
> I hope you liked this anyway!  
> (I don't _entirely_ cross the possibility to write some oneshots in the same verse at some point, if I am inspired, either.)
> 
> Also I'm on [Tumblr](http://missephy.tumblr.com/) as missephy! Don't hesitate to come around ;)


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